


enjoy your life

by Spongyllama



Series: power & control [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Family, Feelings, Friendship, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Parenthood, Past Abuse, Politics, Recovery, RotS AU, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 74,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27421549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spongyllama/pseuds/Spongyllama
Summary: In the wake of Grievous’s death, Palpatine has been arrested by the Jedi. As his trial in the Senate approaches, Padmé struggles to balance motherhood with trying get the Chancellor convicted of treason, which is difficult when the whole government sits in his pocket.Meanwhile, Ahsoka doesn’t know what to do with herself, Anakin is not even remotely traumatized, no sir, and Obi-Wan does not have even the slightest urge to throttle Palpatine with his bare hands.After all, that would bemostuncivilized.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: power & control [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986343
Comments: 613
Kudos: 515





	1. handmade heaven

**Author's Note:**

> surprise……..I didn’t expect to be posting this any more than you expected to get the notif
> 
> Sequel to [give me one more night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296429/chapters/64025593), an ROTS AU where the canon divergence comes from Anakin deciding to ask Obi-Wan for help instead of going to Palpatine’s office. This story, like its predecessor, is inspired heavily by both Stover’s novel and the ROTS deleted scenes with Padmé. The summary and tags basically say it all. If any of that sounds interesting to you I hope you shall join me on this roller coaster <3
> 
> This first chapter overlaps with the last chapter of “give me one more night” and it’s a bit of a recap but I wanted to give Mama Padmé a wholesome moment before we dive headfirst into feelings territory. I hope you do enjoy!
> 
> oh and just to be explicitly clear. the title and below lyrics are not supposed to be even the SLIGHTEST bit ironic, if you catch my drift

* * *

_sit back and enjoy your problems_

_you don’t always have to solve ‘em_

_‘cause your worst days they are over_

_so enjoy your life_

* * *

Motherhood, it was clear, was going to bring about a lot of changes to Padmé’s life, and it wasn’t exactly that she hadn’t expected this. She’d read a few parenting holobooks in the months that Anakin was away in the Outer Rim, had laid in bed staring at holonet guides on childrearing to distract herself from the empty spot beside her and the loneliness in her heart. So she’d definitely known what some of it would be like, bits here and there, but the thing was…she hadn’t expected the conclusion of her pregnancy to be quite like _this_.

First off, she hadn’t expected it to be over this soon. Sure, she knew _now_ that twin pregnancies usually ended in the eighth month, but she hadn’t known she was going to have twins, now, had she? And, again, maybe not going to a gynecologist or asking her mom and sister questions was her fault. Maybe it was on her for not having one single thing prepared for the arrival of her little ones. Maybe she should have considered buying baby clothes or a bassinet or at the very least, diapers, but she hadn’t, okay? She just hadn’t, because she’d been wanting to do all of those things with Anakin, and she’d wanted so badly to have the babies on Naboo, but Anakin had been away for so long and she’d waited too long and now she was in labor and she was _absolutely_ freaking out because she really did not have _one single thing_ prepared —

And _secondly_ , as far as things-she’d-been-unprepared-for went, she further had not been prepared for the possibility of her husband almost turning to the dark side because he’d been the grooming victim of an evil Sith Lord. She had not expected to have to spend her senior days of pregnancy having to assuage her husband’s fears that she might inevitably die a painful and prophesied death in childbirth. And finally, she’d not expected that the person to accompany her to the birth of her children would in fact _not_ be her beloved Anakin, but rather the Negotiator himself, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Her water had broken during their much-needed intervention for her husband, and she honestly had to pat herself on the back for how well she had handled it…‘it’ being, of course, sitting in a puddle of fluid while Anakin poured his heart out for the first time in — well, ever. She hadn’t been about to turn their attention away from him, because she knew it may well have been a once in a lifetime chance to actually hear Anakin talk about his feelings, but dear gods and goddesses had it been uncomfortable. And she didn’t regret it for a heartbeat, and she never would — she would suffer through a thousand puddles of amniotic fluid for him, same as he suffered all those awful nightmares and contemplated doing all those awful things for _her_. It was, really, the least she could do. 

Besides, well. Carrying his children to term. There _was_ that.

And she was sure a part of her would always feel some sting of regret for not allowing him to see the birth of his children, but really, all things considered, she was pretty sure he needed the reprieve as much as she did. Padmé had seen him through a lot of wild emotions — grief, fury, regret — but she truly had never seen him in quite the state he’d been in that night. Knowing what she knew now she couldn’t blame him, not in the slightest, but at the end of that very, very long day, what they had _both_ needed was for him to have a break from the terror and despair and for her to have some peace and quiet during the most stressful thing her body would ever undergo.

Labor, she was quick to learn, was really just a whole lot of waiting, interspersed with the occasional, and then more frequent than that, contraction, and throughout the whole thing Padmé couldn’t help but think that Obi-Wan was almost certainly the best possible birth partner a woman could want. And she would never have expected to have that thought.

“Obi-Wan,” she said, relaxing her gritted teeth after the most recent contraction had passed, “I think we’re becoming better friends tonight.”

He laughed. “I’m happy to help.”

“Remember when we met?” Padmé said, wiping sweat off her brow. “I was being taken to a prison camp, and you jumped down from a balcony and dismantled all the droids.”

“I recall,” Obi-Wan replied, a twinkle in his eyes. “That mission changed my life quite a bit, you know.”

“And mine,” she agreed, “And my planet’s. And the galaxy’s, really. But I bet you never thought one day you’d be helping that fourteen year old queen deliver the twins of your best friend.”

“No, I don’t recall that thought crossing my mind at the time.”

So, yes. Obi-Wan Kenobi was an absolute _dear._

No, really. This man was her rock. They chatted a little on and off, mostly to distract her from the pain. He rubbed her back when she asked, massaged her shoulders on command, supported her as she switched to a new position to ease the strain on her absolutely enormous belly. He guided her breathing when she needed it, shut up when she asked him to, because she kept going from being repulsed by touch to desperately yearning for it and overall, it was a _bit_ of an emotional day.

“Have you done this before?”

“Actually, no,” he said thoughtfully. “But as Master Yoda likes to say, we are always learning and always growing.”

“I don’t want to grow anymore,” Padmé complained. “I want these children _out._ ”

And _that_ was when it had hit her. Saying those words, for some reason, had pulled the plug on an absolute typhoon of emotions as she realized, abruptly, that actually, she was not even slightly ready for these children to be out at all. Realization slapped her fully in the face that she had absolutely no idea what to do next. All the holobooks she’d read on parenting forgotten, all the things the Jedi had told her wiped from her memory, the only thing she could think, suddenly, was —

“Obi-Wan,” she said after another contraction had passed. She clutched at his hand, her eyes wide. “I need to talk to my mom _right now!_ ”

Being the absolute darling that he was, Obi-Wan managed to hook her up with a connection to Naboo. It was well past midnight now on Coruscant, but back home it would be early afternoon, and after a minute of absolutely agonized waiting the face of her mother appeared and Padmé started simply _bawling_.

_“Padmé?”_ Jobal exclaimed through the screen, and a second later a face appeared next to her of Padmé’s sister, Sola. _“Darling, what’s wrong, are you okay?”_

And that was how, after an emotional confession of all the secrets she’d kept from her family for the last three years, the collective Naberrie clan pledged to fly to Coruscant as soon as they’d collected all the spare baby clothes and equipment from Sola’s daughters and from their own childhood. And though she was still bawling when the call was over, this time it was in relief.

The birth came by the late morning. The Jedi had given her some painkillers and altogether the whole experience wasn’t as awful as she’d expected…Luke came first, sweet darling baby Luke, followed shortly after by adorable squirmy baby Leia, and once they were each cleaned in turn she held them both against her skin and realized that she had never known true love until right at that moment. It was absolute magic, happy exhausted magic, and her only regret was that Anakin was not here with her for those first magical moments.

After showing her how to feed them the Jedi swept the twins away to a pair of incubators, promising that their prematurity was normal for twins and they seemed very medically well, so she went back to her room. Took a contented glance at a passed out Anakin, who had gifted her with those two beautiful babies, and fell into the most exhausted sleep of her life, same as him.

Her family showed up two days later, and she mostly spent that time with Anakin quietly fawning over their newborns, alternating between staring at their gorgeous faces and looking up more parenting tips on the holonet. She and him didn’t really do that much talking, other than showing each other factoids they’d looked up in their furious research, and sharing excited glances whenever Leia sneezed or Luke scratched at his face. 

Obi-Wan saw the Naberries into the temple and brought them here to the Halls of Healing, and Padmé found herself nearly leaping into her mother’s arms, then her father’s, then her sister’s.

“I’m so glad you all came,” she said, beaming up at all of them, whose smiles were each the fiercely loving ones she knew and missed. Padmé turned to Anakin and hooked her arm around his. “I know you’ve all met before, but Ani, this is my mom Jobal, my dad Ruwee, and my sister Sola. Everyone, you remember Anakin.”

“Hi,” Anakin said from beside her rather sheepishly, giving a little wave at waist height.

“Anakin,” Jobal said with that same brilliant smile, crossing the space between them to wrap Anakin in a big hug. Padmé was about to stop her, knowing of Anakin’s staunch aversion being touched by those he did not trust, but to her great surprise — and to Anakin’s, it seemed — he closed his eyes and appeared to almost melt into the hug. “Welcome to the family, darling.”

It lasted for a few seconds and when he drew away, Padmé saw him blinking up at the ceiling with his eyes glistening. Jobal balked. “Are you all right, dear?”

He nodded, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. “Sorry. Been an emotional few days.” He paused, and added, “I just miss my own mom, is all.”

Padmé gave Anakin a hug of her own and then led him and her family over to the babies, saving him from having to say any more about the subject he hated talking about the most. “This is Luke and Leia,” she said, resting her head against Anakin’s shoulder, beaming down at their creations as the family crowded around the sleeping newborns.

Cooing over Luke, Sola said, “I can’t wait until I tell Pooja and Ryoo they have cousins. Oh, Padmé, why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

They all sat and talked about it for a long time. It was kind of odd to be doing it here, of all places, because she really had envisioned doing all of this on Naboo, but at the end of the day she was just so, so happy to have them here at all. They talked about her secret marriage, and why they’d kept it a secret, and that it wasn’t personal and they’d hated lying but it had always just been necessary. They talked about Padmé going back home, which she told them she desperately wanted to do but that she had some loose ends she needed to tie up first, and that she hadn’t even talked to Queen Apailana yet and couldn’t begin to predict how that conversation would go….

Anakin didn’t do that much talking, which wasn’t necessarily surprising but it did worry her a bit. It was difficult to draw the line, knowing what she knew now, between smothering him with love and validation and respecting his boundaries as an individual…she wanted so badly to be there for him, and wanted him so badly to be there for her, but at times it was as if there was a barrier between them. As if there was a tear in realspace and they existed in very similar bit distinct parallel dimensions. And it was something they hadn’t yet talked about, hadn’t even brought up, and they would have to, but they were both so weary to the bone and she didn’t think she wanted to have that conversation any more than he did, so for now they mutually and silently agreed to leave it alone.

Her family decided to stay at Padmé’s apartment for a while, though Ruwee would have to go back to work soon and Sola wanted to go back to her own daughters back home, where they were staying with her husband. But they had brought practically a shipful of equipment and clothes and bottles and pumps and blankets and for the dozenth time, Padmé was just so, so thankful to have a loving family no matter how much time and how many years she’d spent away from them.

She went back with them to her apartment to set everything up while Anakin hung back in the temple, and while she was there she decided she might as well get the call with the queen over with, admit her deception for the second time today, and she surprised herself by dreading this conversation even more than the one with her family —

The blue hologram of Queen Apailana appeared in her living area, appearing to sit on Padmé’s yellow couches instead of the throne in the Theed Palace. Padmé had changed into an elegant dress, looking far more regal than she felt, and by the time she had finished her lengthy confession and retelling of the recent events as she had experienced them, the queen had hardly shifted in her expression. She simply watched, passively nodding, holding tight to her emotion the way that Sabé had taught Padmé to all those years ago, and it struck Padmé suddenly after she had stopped talking that the girl she spoke with was only twelve years old.

Sometimes she couldn’t believe that once upon a time, that had been her. That the entire planet had elected her at fourteen years old. That she’d been trusted with legislation and delegation and the fate of an entire planet during an unprecedented blockade and subsequent battle. That she had united her people with the entire race of natives that had been avoiding contact with them for generations.

And here she was now. Postpartum, and begging forgiveness from a girl younger than she had been when she was elected. She wondered if this was how people had felt when talking to Queen Amidala.

_“An eventful life you have had, Senator,”_ Apailana commented, betraying no emotion but with a hint of playfulness that Padmé thought she could only recognize from her own experience. _“I congratulate you on your new family.”_

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Padmé said, bowing her head slightly. “I am truly sorry for my deception. I never wished to put you in this position. If you would prefer that I step down I will respect your wishes without question.”

Apailana thought for a moment. _“This is a deeply troubling time,”_ she said in her practiced monotone. _“Do you expect Chancellor Palpatine to be brought before the Senate?”_

“I believe that is the most likely scenario,” Padmé replied. It suddenly hit her like a sheet of falling durasteel after an explosion that when she had been in Apailana’s position, the person who had been in _her_ position now had been Palpatine himself. “I have worked diligently throughout my pregnancy to try to bring an end to the war. I believe that if the Chancellor is brought to trial and acquitted, the galaxy may never return to the state of peace that I have worked toward for my whole career.”

_“Do you wish to continue serving?”_ the queen said. _“Or would you prefer I nominate Representative Binks in your stead?”_

“I do not presume to make the choice for you, Your Majesty,” Padmé said formally, “But if I am allowed to I would like to see the trial through to conclusion and do what I can to ensure the transition to peace is finite. By your leave, I would like to submit my testimony to any hearings or investigative committees regarding what I know about the Chancellor.”

_“The Naboo have great faith in you, Senator,”_ Apailana said kindly. _“And you have my blessing to proceed with any cooperation you find appropriate in the upcoming trials. But I would be remiss not to ask after your own health. I understand the beginnings of motherhood are quite difficult. Speaking as objectively as you can, do you feel you are physically up to the challenge of doing both at once?”_

Padmé fought a sigh. “In truth, Your Highness, I don’t know if I can maintain it for long. I was hoping that perhaps after the trial I may retire, and return to Naboo. There are simply…loose ends, if you will, that I wish to tie up. After that I will be happy to concede my position to Representative Binks.”

Apailana nodded, satisfied. _“Go forth, Senator, and proceed. But be cautious. You have been a target many times by those who oppose your ideals, and I fear your life may be in more danger now than ever before. I wish you the best of luck, and pray for your safety. May your compassion be passed onto others as well.”_

A smile overcame her. “Thank you, Highness,” she said, bowing her head in her seat. “Your faith means a great deal to me. I will do Naboo proud, I promise you.”

The queen nodded in finality, and the transmission fizzled out.

It was done, then.

Telling her family. Telling the queen. Having the babies, and saving Anakin from Palpatine’s clutches. Those ‘it’s were done. But the rest…the rest had barely begun.

Sitting back in her seat for a moment, taking a great breath, conscious of the ache in her body as it healed from birth, Padmé stared across the room out at the Coruscant evening and pledged to herself that she _would_ do as she said.

She would make Naboo proud.

She would bring this man to justice.

And then she would retire in peaceful prosperity with her husband and newborn children in the Naboo lake country.

Then she sighed, and closed her eyes.

If only it would be that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when I was like “I’m not committing to a sequel” and then I started writing one three days later. This is a trend for me apparently
> 
> No schedule for this one. im taking it a little more casually lol I’ve been a perfectionist lately gonna try to dial it back. But I do have a few chapters written because my brain will not shut up. Interesting stuff on the horizon! Thanks for being here <3


	2. life is strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> butter has a wookieepedia page apparently

The holding cells deep within the temple where both Maul and Palpatine were being kept were a lot different from the ones in which Ahsoka had once interviewed a detained Letta Turmond after the bombings all those months ago. This was a high-security area the likes of which she’d never actually seen, though she supposed it made sense that the Jedi temple, central home of their Order, would contain places in which to keep the most powerful dark siders in the galaxy.

Obi-Wan did not give her all the details of security, which Ahsoka assumed was Council-only information, but he did tell her that the walls of the rooms that now housed the two Sith Lords were lined with a refined Force-dampening ore mined from the depths of Ilum. It wasn’t anything that actually negated the prisoner’s ability to use the Force, he said, but rather kept all their power contained in their cell so they could not use it to harm others. It was a technology she’d never heard of so it was interesting to learn about, but it was also very telling. After all, injected Force-suppressors and the like were hardly something that the high and mighty Jedi would ever stoop so low to use (Ahsoka’s words, not Obi-Wan’s), not even on the most dangerous people that posed the greatest threat to the existence of their entire Order….

Ahem. Sorry. Ahsoka’s feelings toward the Jedi were a little mixed right now, was all. Being home was…weird. If things had been normal, if she’d returned out of genuine interest in being here, it would be different. And she _had_ been prepared to return to the temple with Maul, and she had _known_ that tensions might be a little high. But after everything with Palpatine, and Anakin, and the Council, she just…she didn’t really want to be here that much at all.

But still, she had captured Maul, and now she felt an obligation to see this chapter of her life through to conclusion. She didn’t know exactly what that conclusion would be, as the future right now was even more uncertain than it had ever been, but the least she could do was go with Obi-Wan to interrogate Maul and pass the torch over to him. Maul was sort of Obi-Wan’s problem after all, and as Maul himself had admitted, Ahsoka had been sort of a placeholder for Obi-Wan from the moment she got recruited by Bo-Katan to save Mandalore….

Ah. Life was so strange right now.

She entered Maul’s prison chamber with Obi-Wan. It was a three step process — outside the door to the first room stood a pair of faceless temple guards, two of the same kind that had ripped her silka bead Padawan braid from her head when she’d been expelled. They flanked the door and gripped their dual-bladed lightsabers in a defensive hold at waist height. Through the door that they were guarding, there was a room with a panel of security screens, monitoring the prisoner from multiple angles, and before the console sat a security droid and a Jedi Master. This time it was not one of the Council — three of them had been killed by Palpatine and most were off-world fighting droids — but Obi-Wan said there was a rotation of masters that took shifts monitoring the prisoners to ensure they did not try anything the temple guards couldn’t handle.

In through another door, finally, was Maul, and in here Ahsoka could sense exactly what Obi-Wan had meant about the Force-dampening…it wasn’t that she couldn’t feel the Force. She could, but it was…stuffy. Contained. Like she was shut off, suddenly, from the world around her, as if the Force itself only existed in this room. Ancient Jedi technology, Obi-Wan had said, sort of like a one way mirror — apparently one outside the room could feel the prisoner but the prisoner could not feel them. Interesting. One learned new things about the temple every day they were here.

Inside this room, Maul sat on the far side of a pair of red, buzzing ray shields that acted as a sort of room divider. Ahsoka supposed there were two to allow for the passage of food and other supplies in between the two halves of the room. Maul looked up sharply, sensing them, and rose slowly to his feet.

“Kenobi,” he said, and Ahsoka heard a sort of visceral malice in his voice that he had never used on her, at least not so passionately. “How cruel fate would seem. I suppose you recall the last time we looked upon each other in such a way, when I cut down your master as easily as a knife cuts through butter?”

“I do seem to recall,” Obi-Wan said lightly, and Ahsoka was surprised to hear a hint of amusement in his voice as he surveyed the fallen Sith. He crossed his arms over his chest. “On that note — how are your legs?”

Maul ignored his taunt. “And you bring Lady Tano here with you. Come to gloat over my defeat, have you? Or shall you release this ray shield so that I may have such an honor?”

“On the contrary,” Obi-Wan said, “Gloating would require me to stoop to your level. We simply have some questions for you, and it would be advantageous for all of us if you were to answer honestly.”

“Advantageous?” Maul said, incredulity saturating his voice. “What benefit could the Jedi possibly give to me — or better yet, what punishment? Torture? Coercion? Hardly the Jedi way, is it?”

Ahsoka cut in, “You were willing to work with me before.”

“Before I was captured? Before I was thrown in this prison cell to rot?”

“Before you told me that your plan was to murder Anakin.”

“Ah, yes,” Maul said, pacing back and forth slowly, as if on the prowl. “I’m sure the girl informed you of my plans, Kenobi. Would that I had sought to take your apprentice’s life, rather than your lover’s, and prevented this crisis before it could occur.”

“Yes, I heard about your prophetic visions,” Obi-Wan replied cooly. “There seems to be an uptick of those recently. Fortunately, I’m happy to inform you they do not always come true, and it seems yours are no exception.”

Maul’s yellow eyes visibly narrowed. “What has happened?”

Ahsoka said, “A better question is, if you wanted to defeat Darth Sidious so badly, why didn’t you tell me he was the Supreme Chancellor?”

Understanding seemed to dawn on Maul’s face. “I see, I see. So _that_ is the source of dark energy I feel wrapping itself around this temple like a Caskan wolf-snake…my master is here as well?”

“Kindly answer Ahsoka’s question, Maul,” Obi-Wan said.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Maul taunted, a cruel smile twisting across his features, baring his yellow teeth. “I may no longer be a Sith, Kenobi, but neither am I your pawn. To reveal my information would have handed all the cards over to your precious Council. It was all in my visions, you see. Each time I would see it — the Jedi Council, confronting Sidious only to die trying. To fail miserably, and give birth to a new Lord of the Sith, one that would tear down every last fabric of stability remaining in this wretched galaxy. Speaking of whom…where is your precious protégé, Skywalker?”

“Out of your reach, Maul,” Obi-Wan said, and Ahsoka turned to see a sort of fire lit in her grandmaster’s eyes. “Understand me, as long as I live, neither you nor any other Sith will ever lay a finger on him again.”

“You are not out of the asteroid field yet, Kenobi,” Maul said mockingly. He continued to pace around as he spoke, as if drawing in energy from the Force itself even in a room as contained as this. “You felt it, as I did. You feel it even now. That boy, your apprentice, is a _cancer_. He draws in darkness like a black hole draws gravity. I should have cut him down all those years ago on Tatooine, as I tried to do with your master. As long as he lives, as long as Darth Sidious lives, the Force will continue to scream with chaos and Skywalker _will_ fall. If you were truly so wise, you would heed my warning.”

Obi-Wan took a moment, and Ahsoka heard him draw in and release a calming breath. Casually, as if this were just a chat, he said, “So I take it you’ve no interest in helping us with Sidious?”

Maul shook his head mutely, though it didn’t feel like an answer to Obi-Wan’s question, and turned away.

“It’s not too late,” Ahsoka said, watching him. “The Council isn’t entirely heartless. You could at least talk with them.”

Making not the slightest sound, Maul simply sat down on the floor and closed his eyes, sinking into meditation. In her periphery, Ahsoka saw Obi-Wan shaking his head as well before turning away and heading out of the cell, back into the Force’s loving embrace.

She walked with him for a while in silence, each of them stuck deep in their own thoughts, and after a while she wasn’t really sure where he was going and didn’t really know where she should be going, either. She got the impression that both of them were trying to process what Maul had said.

Eventually, pausing beside a great window with waning sunlight filtering in like a gentle cascade, Obi-Wan turned to her fully and said, “Ahsoka…I’ve been thinking.” She looked up at him, and suddenly he seemed sad. “I’m not sure that my apology to you that night was good enough. I really, truly am sorry about what happened. There’s not a single thing that happened that was fair to you, and you shouldn’t have had to go through that. I’m sorry for what the Council did, and I’m sorry for the part I played in it. I should have been there for you, but I wasn’t. We all should have.”

Taking this in, Ahsoka’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Thank you,” she said slowly, not really quite sure how she felt about it even now. “Honestly, I’ve been trying not to think about any of it, but being back here makes it kind of hard. But I appreciate that, Obi-Wan. I really do. I just…don’t think the rest of the Council feels the same.”

He nodded, looking weary. “I can’t speak for them, but I suspect you may be right. I’m sure they feel some remorse — as you said, they are not heartless — but I’m not certain they’re entirely…self-aware. I’ve been having more and more arguments with them of late, and I can’t help but feeling like my voice just gets drowned out. I have no doubt their intentions are good, but their execution is…lacking.”

“Their _lack of_ execution is the problem if you ask me,” she said coolly. “They should just kill Palpatine and be done with it.” She paused, but raised her hand between them before he could reply. “I know, I know, it’s not the Jedi way. And it’s not that I’ve walked away from that myself, exactly. I’ve been _trying_ to uphold the Order’s principles while I was gone, but sometimes action just _needs_ to be taken. This isn’t just a traitor, a dark sider, this is a Sith Lord! The Sith are the Jedi’s job! Don’t you think we should be taking care of him?”

Obi-Wan looked out the window, raising a hand to scratch at his beard. His thoughtful pose. “It’s not so simple. You know that.”

“I do,” Ahsoka said, annoyed. “But it can be. There’s no reason for it not to be.”

He looked unsure, like he wanted to agree. She was sure he did. But he _wasn’t_ agreeing, and that was the problem.

She sighed. “I accept your apology, Obi-Wan. And like you said, we’re friends. But you need to start thinking for yourself, and not about what the Council would want. You said it yourself — the Council isn’t always right. And lately, they’ve just been flat out wrong. I know I’m biased, and I’m not _completely_ devoid of respect for them, but you know it, and I know it. Whatever the Council is doing isn’t good enough.”

“It’s not that I don’t agree with you,” Obi-Wan said, his voice very hushed. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “But there’s more at stake than you seem willing to admit. Palpatine has the entire government wrapped around his finger, just as he had with Anakin. And if it was so hard to convince one person of Palpatine’s intentions, how hard do you think it will be to convince the Senate? And even if we were to do away with him so easily, it would be seen as…as a coup. A revolution. The Republic needs us, Ahsoka, even if they don’t know it. We have to proceed with caution.”

Frowning, Ahsoka released the tension in her shoulders and nodded dully. “I guess you’d know better than I do. I just wish Anakin had killed him when he had the chance. Or Windu, or anyone. It’s just such a bad situation.”

“On that we agree.”

Turning away from him and beginning to walk down the hall, she said just loudly enough for him to hear her, “Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll choke on his dinner. That seems to be the only way we might get rid of him.”

She heard him chuckle, and couldn’t dampen her own grim smile as she pictured that image in her head.

* * *

On the last day before they were allowed to take the twins home, Yoda came to see him. Anakin was sitting with Padmé beside the incubators as they had been for over a week now, simply enjoying a reprieve from the weary dreadfulness of life, when the little Grand Master flew in through the door astride his small hoverseat. It was an unplanned meeting, though one Anakin had known to expect, and in truth it surprised him that it had taken this long. But then, he supposed, there were other things going on.

Yoda hovered over to them, and without a word took a look down at the two sleeping, nearly identical babies. The Force hummed with gentle contentment as he said, “Always nice, it is, to be around humans closer to my size.” He turned to them. “Congratulations to both of you. Warms my heart it does to see such pure light mixed in with all the dark. Good to see new life being brought in amidst all the death.”

Padmé leaned in with a smile. “Thank you, Master Yoda. This is Leia, and Luke. They’re going home tomorrow.”

Yoda watched the babies for a moment, and then said, “Considered, have you, whether you would have them raised in the temple?”

Anakin was about to respond but lightning quick, Padmé put a firm hand on his thigh to stop him from being impulsive. She said, “The Naboo value family above all else, as I’m sure you can understand. I have great respect for the Jedi, but we will be raising them ourselves.”

Yoda nodded, accepting this. “Take children by force, you know we do not. Offered I did out of goodwill, and obligation. Heartless I am not. Happy for you, I am. But caution you, I must,” he added, looking at Anakin now. “If intend to teach them the ways of the Force you do, mastery you must first gain over yourself. Otherwise consequences there might be, as well you know.”

Anakin felt Padmé’s eyes on him, but he looked away from both of them. He didn’t want to have this conversation, even now, even though that was exactly why Yoda was here.

“Talk we must, young Skywalker,” Yoda said, sensing Anakin’s thought. “Come.”

Standing wordlessly, Anakin pressed a kiss into Padmé’s hair and followed the wizened Jedi Master down the hall, into an empty area in the Halls of Healing dedicated to contemplation and recuperation. Yoda motioned with clawed fingers for Anakin to sit opposite him.

They sat there for a moment in silence, the gentle trickle of a fountain providing the only ambient noise. Anakin remembered barely two weeks ago, when they had mirrored this position in Yoda’s own quarters. Then, Yoda said, “Long overdue this talk is. Suspected I have for some time that acted on your attachment to the senator you did. Correct I was.”

Anakin sighed, deep and likewise overdue. “I am sorry I lied to you, Master. It’s true that being a Jedi means everything to me…but so does Padmé.”

Yoda nodded. “Many exceptions we have made for you before, but stand with tradition this time I must. Have both lives, you cannot. Know this you do.”

“I do,” Anakin said. “And I am grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me. Being a Jedi was my childhood dream, but I know now that the image I formed of them on Tatooine was not true to life. When Qui-Gon recruited me he didn’t tell me I wouldn’t be able to have attachments. I understand in theory why it has to be that way, but it wasn’t ever something I planned on doing. There were a lot of things I was unprepared for, but that was the biggest one.” He sighed again. “And I shouldn’t have lied, and I won’t excuse it, but neither do I regret it, even now.”

“The first Jedi to be in this situation, you are not,” Yoda said. “Thousands of generations have I seen come and go, but never have we been brought so close to our demise. Never has a Sith Lord so nearly infiltrated our defenses. To blame for Sidious’s behavior you are not, but understand you must why able to exploit you he was. Even if leave the Order you do, mastery of yourself you _must_ achieve. A one time struggle this may not be. Temptation you may face again, if careful you are not.”

Bowing his head, Anakin closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

Yoda made a gruff-sounding noise. “Here to expel you I am not.” Anakin looked up sharply. “Rather I would give you a choice. Rather I would give you the chance to walk away, as did your Padawan.”

Anakin felt his mouth fall slightly open. “May I ask why?”

There was a thoughtful pause as Yoda considered what to say. “Innocent in this matter, the Council is not. Done much thinking I have these last few days. Spoken with Obi-Wan, I have. Understand, I do, the circumstances in which Sidious managed to corrupt you. A responsibility to you we had, and misread the Force I did. Blinded were we, that we could not see the Sith Lord so close. A poor judgement it was to allow him access to you as a child. Ignorant we were of the signs. Blame no one for this I do, but the dark Lord of the Sith. Deep in his machinations we all fell, and blamed for this you must not be.”

“But I still broke your rules. What does that have to do with my attachment?”

“Nothing. And everything,” Yoda said, and Anakin had to bite down a groan. The crypticness of a Jedi Master was the last thing he wanted to try to decipher right now. He was still so tired, down to his bones. “Sought attachments you did not only out of weakness, but out of loneliness. Felt you did that belonged with the Jedi you did not. Done more to fix this, perhaps we could have.”

That made enough sense, but even so — “With all due respect, Master,” Anakin said quietly, “I do not believe attachment inherently means weakness.”

“Hmm. Attempting to criticize you I am not. Everyone has weaknesses. A natural part of life they are. Trying to shame you I am not. Cautioning you, I am. Powerful you are, Anakin, and drawn to your power others are. The first Sidious was not, and the last he will not be. Finished with you, _he_ may not be.”

Anakin looked at him, suddenly anxious. “What do you mean?”

“Protect you from him we will, as best we can,” Yoda said, “But powerful is he as well. Control he has over the Senate and the courts. While he lives, seek your power he will. Unpredictable is the future, as is he. Strike back against us, he may. Ready you must be.”

He swallowed, and it was like a pebble was stuck in his throat. “The prophecy, you mean?”

Yoda raised his hand. “Concerned with prophecy I am not. Ask you to face him I will not. But see him again you may. Talk there is in the Senate of a trial. Only so much can we control the situation. Forced to leave the temple, he may be. Dangerous is that possibility.”

As much as he hated to show weakness in front of Yoda, Anakin could not help but to drop his face in his hands. “I can’t do it again, Master. Even now it’s like he’s in my head, just biding his time. I feel like no matter what I do I’ve already lost.”

“Control,” Yoda said, “You must gain control. Lost you have not. Join him you did not. Still time there is. Control yourself you _can_.”

Anakin just nodded, not believing it was true.

Yoda exhaled, and suddenly he looked more tired than Anakin had ever seen him. Anakin couldn’t blame him. To top off an already nine hundred year lifespan with a war and the resurgence of the Sith must be exhausting. Anakin was already exhausted enough, but he could only imagine how that must feel.

“Time for us to part ways it is, I think” Yoda said. “Served well you have in your time with the Jedi, but coming to a close that chapter is.”

Anakin nodded again. “Thank you, Master Yoda. I appreciate your support, and your understanding.”

“Come to me if help you need,” Yoda said, raising a hand as if in farewell. “Wish you and your family well, I do. May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you, Master. And likewise. If you need help, I’ll do what I can.”

Yoda graced him with a subtle smile and bade him dismissal.

Feeling numb, Anakin left and walked back down the corridor to the twins, collapsing back in the chair next to Padmé’s. She looked at him over Luke, who she was nursing. “So what did he say?”

Instead of answering, Anakin just turned toward her and rested his forehead on her shoulder and didn’t answer. He didn’t want to think about it right now.

He didn’t really want to think about anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to give you all a taste of what this story will be about...I've been writing a lot because I wanted to mentally escape from the horror of real world politics, but then I realized I was writing about a political structure in which a leader of a republic has been demonstrated as corrupt and unethical and yet it's a massive debate whether or not he will be removed from office, due to his fanatic following and his efforts to undermine the democratic process.
> 
> which just leads me to the question...what if Palpatine had Twitter?


	3. oh no!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as I said in the series page description all the titles are from Marina and the Diamonds...this is mostly just self-indulgence but Oh No! really is the biggest of moods
> 
> miserable self-deprecating lyrics sung in a poisonously cheerful way is basically a whole anxiety mood for me, and this chapter in particular. do with that what you will

_“It’s been nearly four weeks since the arrest of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine by the Jedi Order and tensions are running high in the galactic core. Our correspondents in the Executive Building on Coruscant report that investigative committees have been working tirelessly to collect evidence for and against Chancellor Palpatine to bring before the Senate in his upcoming trial. Sources from the Galactic Times and Republic Infinitum are here today to discuss Chancellor Palpatine’s arrest and we will be hearing from them momentarily. My name is Jar Fitzer and this is Coruscant News Nightly.”_

Anakin was able to hear some of this from the holoscreen but it was mostly drowned out by the sudden burst of a newborn infant’s surprisingly loud wailing. He must have fallen asleep again, which was hard not to do at random when he couldn’t make it through the night without hearing that exact sound at least four times — or, double that, actually, because, well. Twins.

He heaved a great breath and fumbled around to shut off the news before he could open his eyes and have to see Palpatine’s face on the holo. He glanced at the chronometer — fourteen twenty-five hours — before rolling off the sofa and stumbling his way over to see which baby it was this time, reminding himself blearily that he was supposed to be cherishing this time and this life and these children, both of whom he loved more than anything or anyone, and both of whom would not stop crying any reasonable stretch of time _._

Padmé had gone back to work about a week ago, reluctantly shouldering the responsibility of trying to expose to the Republic the things that Palpatine had done, the crimes that he had committed, for the last thirteen years of leadership. Anakin didn’t know which one of them it was harder for — probably her, to be fair, but he wasn’t having a good time of it either. Yes, he got to stay home, which was something he’d never been exactly good at, but at least he was too tired to feel jittery. But the twins were _so_ much work, and in his most exhausted moments Anakin sometimes found himself wishing they had shut off switches on the back of their necks like C-3PO, or power sockets where he could plug them in for recharge instead of having to feed them every _two hours_ —

But perhaps unfortunately, they weren’t droids, but rather very vulnerable and helpless humans that he had helped to create. And he loved them. Very. Very. Much.

All things considered, being thrust into a state of fatherhood (for which he was entirely unprepared, by the way) was not, surprisingly, the worst case of culture shock Anakin had ever experienced. After all, as someone who had once been a nine-year-old freed slave from Hutt Space who couldn’t read Basic and had never seen a body of water bigger than the tank of a moisture vaporator — fatherhood had to be a piece of cake, right?

Actually…not right. Not right at all. Not even in the slightest. Nope.

Parenthood, it turned out, might be the thing that would do him in. And he didn’t mean that in a dark side-y kind of way — been there, done that, sort of — but in more of a ‘learning a whole new meaning of sleep deprivation’ type of way. A decade of Jedi training and three years serving as a leading commander in the GAR had not in any way prepared him for changing diapers, burping babies, trying to figure out what the _hell_ they were crying about this time because it wasn’t either of those first two things and he really, really had no idea what to do —

They couldn’t have done any of it without Obi-Wan, and they _really_ couldn’t have done any of it without the Naberries. Talk about culture shock — a loving, living, tight-knit family unit that was alive and present and eager to help a wildly unprepared couple who had no idea what they were doing. Padmé’s father had had to return to his teaching position over a week after the Naberries had first greeted them at the temple, and her sister had followed shortly thereafter to be with her own daughters, but Jobal stayed with them on Coruscant, helping them both to learn the ins and outs of parenthood with a patience that rivaled the most experienced of Jedi Masters.

Like, seriously. Anakin didn’t think he’d ever missed his own mom as much as he did now that Padmé’s was here. And that was coming from a man who, after his mother had been kidnapped and violently tortured for a month, had slaughtered her captors with an undying rage and a fire in his heart more heated than the surface of both twin suns of Tatooine _combined_ — 

Uh.

Fatherhood.

Fatherhood was _great_. To be completely and brutally honest, Anakin loved it. He had a lot of other emotions about it, too, and about other various happenings, but the very essence of having twin babies, each of whom were half made of his DNA was, at its core, the most wonderful thing he’d ever experienced. And in a way, _they_ were the greatest reminder of his mother, because Anakin was pretty sure he got all of _his_ DNA from her, even though that didn’t really make sense because of chromosomes and biology but, well, it was confusing and the Force was involved somehow and, uh —

Ok, so maybe his mind was a little scattered, but that was because he was back to having about three hours of sleep a night, if even. Actually, probably _not_ even, because there were, again, _two_ babies in his and Padmé’s care, and they absolutely _refused_ to sleep at the same time as the other one, even when Padmé fed them both at the same time and he changed them at the same time and why why _why_ couldn’t they both just sleep for even just one single hour at a time, _please_ —

He wanted to scream so bad oh Force Force _Force_ he just wanted to _scream_ —

Anakin would readily confess it was a little…jarring. Just, all of it. A few weeks ago now they’d been on Yerbana, just another of the seemingly infinite battles of the Clone War, deep in the Outer Rim without even a trace of an idea that his wife was pregnant, that he would return to Coruscant to the absolute disaster that awaited him. A few weeks ago, he’d reconnected with Ahsoka after months and months of worry, of tuning her lightsabers in his spare time, waiting for the day she might come back to him, come back home. And now, of course, that she _had_ come back home, he’d been forced to leave. Funny how that worked. Funny how everything in his life seemed to go wrong. One. After. Another.

But now everything was right! Ahsoka was back, the Sith were captured, the visions had stopped, Padmé and Luke and Leia were alive and he was _happy_. He was so, so happy. All the time, so happy. So. Happy. All. The. Time.

Life was good.

Life was _great._ Life was simple, peaceful, domestic bliss. No one was asking things of him anymore. Not like those few weeks ago, where everyone, _everyone_ had been asking things of him. When Obi-Wan was asking him things because the Council was too afraid to do it themselves, and Padmé was asking him to ask Palpatine to stop the fighting, and Ahsoka was asking him for help on Mandalore, and the Council was asking him to spy on Palpatine, and Palpatine was asking him to join the Order of the Sith and pledge himself to the dark side and become evil and turn on the Jedi and his friends and he had almost, almost, almost done it, he had almost done it, he almost did it almost almost almost turned almost —

Ahem!

Life. Was. Great!

He was so happy. So happy! He had a family now, and that family was alive, and he spent his days being alive with them, and everyone was happy and nothing was in shambles, he changed diapers for a living and cradled his children, staring at their faces for hours on end to escape from the chaotic dissonance in his head at all times of the day. His only obligations now were to keep these two children alive and safe and healthy, which wasn’t stressful at _all_ , and honestly he was _used_ to only getting two hours of sleep a night, so that wasn’t even really an issue, it was fine, he was good, really good, really fine —

So why did everyone keep acting like he felt otherwise?

He did not feel otherwise. As a matter of fact, cold hard facts, in fact, Anakin factually felt great. It was a fine life. And it was fine that he had to remind himself of this twenty (thousand) times a day, when his mind had wandered off again and again to some words spoken by someone that he had trusted implicitly with all of his deepest, darkest secrets, and not once, not _ever_ at any point did Anakin ever obsess privately over what his Darth name might have been. That was not a thought that crossed his mind ever, not even once.

And yes, actually, he _was_ going to get therapy at some point. He would. He’d said he would, and in fact he _kept_ saying he would, so why did everyone keep _asking?_ Wasn’t it kind of obvious he was a little _busy_ right now? Maybe, just maybe, people could give him more than four solid weeks of fatherhood before freaking out, because he would do it, okay? So would you just lay _off,_ Obi-Wan?

“Look, I’ll be the first to say it,” Ahsoka said to him one day, as he stood with Leia in his arms and a spit rag on his shoulder, and very probably dark circles under his eyes. “You know you’re in denial, right?”

Uh, actually, _Snips_ , how could he be in denial if he had already admitted to the abuse? The abuse that he definitely believed was abuse, and did not in any way struggle to comprehend it as such? Because it definitely, fully made sense to him that that was what Palpatine had done to him? He definitely was not in the _slightest_ bit of denial, and frankly he did not appreciate the accusation, so would everyone _please_ please please just leave him _alone_ —

Ugh.

_Fine!_

Okay.

Fine.

So he was in denial.

Well, what was he supposed to _do_ about it?

And _don’t_ say therapy, because he was definitely, eventually going to get there at some point. For sure. Yeah.

Just…maybe not right now.

“You don’t have to do anything other than show up,” Obi-Wan told him from the other side of the twins’ cradle, arms folded over his chest in that stern masterly position of old. “The Jedi doctors will set it up for you. They’ve already found someone, they’re just waiting for you to give the okay.”

“I’m busy,” Anakin said, rocking the bassinet gently, staring at Luke so he wouldn’t have to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“I see that.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Well, Padmé’s always at work and someone has to watch the twins. I’m someone.”

“So am I,” Obi-Wan said, “So is Jobal, who is more than qualified to watch two infants for an afternoon.”

“Well…you ever heard of separation anxiety?”

He could feel Obi-Wan’s wry smirk boring into him like a laser. “I’m no expert of course, but I think they’re a little young for that. Or were you talking about your own? Because therapy would be an excellent place to address that.”

“All I need is some peace and quiet.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Anakin….”

“Don’t,” Anakin said, feeling like a Padawan again. “Don’t use that tone.”

“What tone?”

“Any of them. I’ve heard them all.”

“And yet you still don’t listen to me,” Obi-Wan said gently, coming around the bassinet and sitting beside him. “You know I’m only trying to help you.”

Anakin sighed, slumping back in his seat and rocking the cradle with the Force instead. “I don’t want to talk about my feelings. There’s too many.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan replied, and the lines around his eyes showed a hint of a smile. “But the trial is going to start soon and I just want you to be as prepared as for it as you can be.”

They fell into a mostly comfortable silence, and after a minute Anakin couldn’t help but think how utterly bizarre this whole situation still felt. A month ago his life with Padmé had been a carefully guarded, tight-lipped secret, and he’d lived in constant fear of Obi-Wan’s inevitable disappointment when he found out the truth. But Obi-Wan hadn’t reacted like that at all. It had just been…accepted. Without question, and judgement, and disapproval. It was different, Anakin was sure, than if he’d told the truth before Padmé’s pregnancy, before he’d almost fallen (not that he was thinking about that, because he wasn’t) but now it was just…life. It was just how things were now. Two friends with severe communication and trust issues that were sitting here together in silence before his newborn twins.

Life was weird, sometimes. 

“Speaking of the trial,” Anakin said distantly, staring at the bassinet without really seeing it, “We’re thinking of leaving after it’s over. Going to Naboo, raising them there. Getting away from all the politics.”

“That’s a good idea,” Obi-Wan said. “You could both use a change of scenery.”

Fiddling with his glove so as not to look at his Obi-Wan’s face, Anakin said, “You could come with us, you know. I mean…if you wanted to.”

He felt Obi-Wan looking at him, and forced himself not to overthink his master’s reaction. There was another, shorter length of silence before Obi-Wan said, quiet, “You want me to come with you?”

Anakin gave a half shrug, shifting in his chair as if it was of no real importance. “I mean, I know you probably don’t want to, but…after all the fighting, the war, all the lies…from both of us…maybe we could all use a new start.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d fully realized that this was a thought he’d been having until he actually said it aloud. And suddenly he was embarrassed, and he wasn’t sure how Obi-Wan would react and wasn’t sure he really _wanted_ to know, until —

“I think…one day, maybe,” Obi-Wan said, himself staring off into the distance now. Anakin looked at him. “You’ve heard me say before that I’ve thought about leaving the Order. Not recently I haven’t, but…before. Truthfully I never thought I would feel that way again…but you’re right. After everything that’s happened, I could use a break myself.”

That was honestly a better answer than Anakin had ever thought he might get. Sometimes he had to consciously remind himself of all the things Obi-Wan had done for him…sometimes even those very memories didn’t feel like enough evidence that Obi-Wan actually did, in fact, care about him. Even after Obi-Wan had haphazardly abandoned the battle of Utapau and had physically dragged Anakin away from his — his _abuser_ , apparently…even now, Obi-Wan’s affirmation of loving him beyond obligation as Anakin’s Jedi master was nothing short of astonishing. 

And Anakin didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him for thinking like that.

Just how kriffing messed up was he?

“I know I said I don’t want to talk about my feelings,” Anakin said, “And I don’t. But, Obi-Wan — I’m sorry for lying to you. I’m really, really sorry.”

Obi-Wan smiled sadly at him. “Accepted. I know why you did it, and I can’t blame you for it. But I hope you know I would never have turned you over to the Council.”

“I do now,” Anakin said honestly. He ran a hand over his face. “Honestly, Master…I don’t know which thoughts are mine, and which are his.”

His friend reached for Anakin’s metal hand and squeezed it. “You are your own person, Anakin. He does not define you.”

A wave of sleepiness swept over him as it had his children, and he rested his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He didn’t respond, because he wasn’t exactly sure he believed Obi-Wan’s words, even now. He wasn’t sure he ever would.

He just…didn’t want to think.

* * *

Soon as Anakin’s Force presence began to dim, caught in the tide of fatherly exhaustion, Obi-Wan felt his face slip into a concentrated frown. Indeed, Palpatine’s actions did not define Anakin, but they certainly brought to Obi-Wan a fury the likes of which he had not known since watching Darth Maul strike his lightsaber through Qui-Gon’s chest. Such a fury, in fact, that if he’d not trained himself better, Obi-Wan was sure his vision would be tinted with red the same color as a Sith’s blade.

For the very _thought_ of what Palpatine had done to Anakin, the awful crushing enormous weight of it all, made Obi-Wan so dreadfully, unbearably angry that sometimes he thought he might burst. Now, fortunately he was a good deal better than Anakin at dealing with his anger. He’d had decades of practice, thirteen years of retrospection at what his anger had made him do the first time. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there at all.

His Padawan. His brother. His friend. His _best_ friend. Abused, groomed, for years and years and years, right under Obi-Wan’s nose. His partner nearly stolen away by this wretched, manipulative, wily, hellishly evil old man. And Obi-Wan had nearly let him. And he really, truly, honestly hadn’t known. And he should have.

He should have known.

He should have, and he didn’t. And for that he was a failure. To the Force, to Qui-Gon, and most importantly to Anakin himself. To the child, and then the man, to whom Obi-Wan had pledged responsibility. He had let Anakin down, plain and simple, and there was nothing he could do about it now other than be endlessly thankful for how things had turned out, and infinitely grateful for the man that Anakin had become.

A few times in these past weeks, Obi-Wan had strongly considered marching down to Palpatine’s prison cell deep within the temple and throttling the man with his bare hands. He’d wasted his time brainstorming the things he would say, the curses he would hurl at the Sith, telling him he hoped Palpatine would rot in the deepest pit of the Sith hells, tormented for all of eternity as badly as the man had tormented Anakin. He would imagine pulling out his lightsaber, or a blaster like he’d done with Grievous, and ending the man’s life as painfully and prolonged as he could manage the act to be.

And then, Obi-Wan would sigh, and he would let those thoughts go.

They were certainly not productive, and frankly he had more important things to be doing. Namely, being there for Anakin, as he was right now. And even if he could do no more than act as a literal shoulder to cry on — or in this case sleep on — then that was what he would do. Obi-Wan would be there, patiently waiting for Anakin to come to him should he choose to do so. He would be there for this new family, on standby, waiting for the call. And if for any reason Anakin decided he no longer wanted Obi-Wan’s help, decided their bond had been irreparably damaged by the negligence on Obi-Wan’s part as he failed to notice the psychological damage that had been done by thirteen years of abuse happening _right under his nose —_

Breathe out. Let it go.

Then, in those worst of circumstances, Obi-Wan would accept that punishment. If that was what Anakin wanted — and he hoped it never became as much — then Obi-Wan would accept that.

Because that was what life was really about, for him, right now. Helping where he could, to atone for his part in all of this. At the end of the day, it was as Yoda had always said about trying. There was only do or do not, and Obi-Wan had not done right by Anakin. He had tried, for years and years and years, but he had not done.

Now, he would.

By his last breath, if it was required of him, Obi-Wan would do right by Anakin. And Padmé, and Leia, and Luke. _That_ was what he wanted. And that was what he would do.

And if he _did_ end up choking the life out of Palpatine with his bare hands, well. He was sure _Anakin_ wouldn’t have a problem with that, at the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> estimating this fic to be 16 chapters...I'm waaaay ahead of the game because I have no life (and because I went down to part time because my restaurant job made me want to die) so I'm actually approaching a nanowrimo for the first time in my life, which is exciting. Thanks for being here and drop me a line if you have any thoughts!  
> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	4. blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, surprise, good day, I'm having a really shitty November so what the hell have another chapter. just gonna vent for a sec: some guy hit my car two hours after I posted Chapter 1 and I just found out that it's a total loss...absolutely love that for me...and covid is worse here than it's ever been and we have mandatory mask laws but restaurants are considered the most dangerous place and guess where I work!!! and I absolutely hate that job anyway, a corporate chain you've def heard of through memes, so I'm praying it shuts down. sorry to vent but as many of you know fic is my coping mechanism and I just. I’ll delete this note later but UGH
> 
> in other news. I wrote some amazing scenes between Anakin and Obi-Wan/Ahsoka today before I got the call from my insurance, but they're later on so you're not gonna see 'em for a while LOL ok enjoy!!!

Simply existing in this thankless galaxy was becoming harder by the day.

By the _hour._ When Padmé had told Queen Apailana that she didn’t think she would be able to hold out for long, even she herself hadn’t known what she was in for.

Everything was a disaster. The Senate was in disarray. It had been a few weeks, now, since Palpatine’s arrest, since her babies’ birth, since Anakin almost — ahem, uh — and now the government was deep in the throes of trying to figure out exactly what to _do_ about all of it. 

Being a new mom was stressful enough, but being a mom who had to go back to work while her body was still healing, having constant crying spells before and after meetings, having to pump milk in her office fresher every few hours because if she didn’t she’d spend the rest of the day with a swollen, soaking chest — it wasn’t fun.

But it _was_ necessary, and Padmé would simply have to keep on reminding herself of how very very necessary it absolutely _was_. It was, frankly, non-negotiable. Palpatine _had_ to be removed from office. And the fact that this was even a debate frightened her to her core.

And yet it _was_ a debate. She’d been meeting with senators left and right, either with other Loyalists alongside her or not. It was disheartening, gritty, unappealing work, and the fact that she had to do it three weeks after giving birth to twins wasn’t even the most upsetting part of it. The most upsetting part, rather, was that it wasn’t working at all.

Padmé had known the Republic was failing for a long time now. She’d had her first inkling ever since the thousand year period of peace had been shattered by a few seceded planets and a few million droids. But to know, now, that the Separatists hadn’t been the root of the problem at _all_ , and that rather it was the fault of two elderly men who had played the galaxy like she had played with dolls as a girl…and to know out of the thousands and thousands of people in the Senate less than half of them seemed even the slightest bit concerned about this….

Okay, it wasn’t that simple. Because Padmé had the benefit of knowing things that other senators couldn’t possibly know. The average congressional representative was hardly privy to the information that the Jedi mostly kept to themselves, like the terror of the Sith and all the things Anakin and Obi-Wan had told her about over the years. Other senators hadn’t been present at Geonosis, had never been in the heat of violent battle, a blaster warm in their hand as they stepped over bodies cold on the ground. But Padmé had fought in her first battle at the age of fourteen, had been doing refugee missions since she was half that age. Padmé had been around the block, and knew more than most of her colleagues exactly how horrible and messed up that block was.

But the thing was, people were not motivated by stories. Other senators were not moved by her pleas, her retellings of events that would have a lesser woman completely traumatized. Which wasn’t to say there was anything wrong with traumatized people, because her husband was in fact one of them, but the point was she had been there. Done that. Padmé had been doing this her entire life. And no one in the Senate cared.

She brought figures. Proof. Examples. She brought the evidence that would eventually be brought up in Palpatine’s trial. Actual physical copies of the evidence, that were on display for every senator to inspect. She showed video clips, played soundbites, saying over and over and over, does this man really sound like he has the Republic’s best interest at heart? 

After all, the fighting was practically over. Grievous was dead. Dooku was dead. Palpatine, Dooku’s master, was in a holding cell inside the Jedi Temple. The Separatist Council was nowhere to be found. So why was the war still going on?

“Perhaps the fighting is over, but it seems a new war is on the horizon,” people would say. “The Jedi illegally arrested the Chancellor. This is a coup. This is treason. They are the ones who should be put on trial, and after the Chancellor is freed, they will be!”

Padmé wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to go home and cuddle with her baby twins. But she couldn’t, not until the end of every day, when she was run ragged on only three hours of sleep and two cups of caf because that was all she could have while breastfeeding. Everything was miserable, and every night she climbed into bed next to Anakin and couldn’t even talk to him about her problems because he was just as miserable, if not more so, than she was.

They hadn’t really been talking much at _all_. It was mostly stunted conversation, something about the twins, or Padmé’s mom, or the weather. Sometimes they argued, and she was so tired she couldn’t tell if he was the one being irrational or if this time it was her. Argued about what to have for dinner, about the right way to burp the babies, about how much they should bottle feed because Anakin wanted to feed them, too, even though he got to stay home with them all day and she had to work all the time and she was doing it for him, for them all, why couldn’t he act more grateful for that even though she knew that deep down he _was —_

She didn’t want it to be like this. She knew he didn’t either, but they were both so trapped inside their own busy thoughts that they just couldn’t communicate. She was too tired to try. And not nearly for the first time, she just wanted to fly away with him to Naboo, disable any connection to the holonet, put the babies to bed for the night and cuddle with him on the couch for hours on end. And maybe do a little more than cuddle, eventually, but honestly she was still pretty sore down there, so. Best hold off for now.

All in all, all things considered, life was a miserable hyperspeed trainwreck where the magnetic rail guides had lost power and the crash site had caught fire. And there were only so many times a day Padmé could find a smile being brought to her face, and those times were when Leia made an adorable sound or Luke held his sister’s hand while falling asleep. Right now, the twins were everything. Absolutely everything. Right now they were her only hope that the future might not yet be lost. Right now, they were all she had left.

Right now, when the galaxy was tearing itself apart, trying to repair itself in the wake of a galactic conflict the likes of which no one had ever known, when her marriage was little more than two people whose only communication was things involving their children and not even a whisper of trying to improve their relationship…all she felt like she really had was her twins.

And she wasn’t sure if that would be enough. 

In fact, it almost hadn’t been.

* * *

It had been a month since the day the universe had almost ended, and even after all that time Council meetings still felt…odd.

They had lost many members during Obi-Wan’s tenure — Even Piell, Adi Gallia, Oppo Rancisis, to name a few — but nothing had been quite so shocking and upsetting as losing Kit, Agen, and Saesee all in one fell swoop of Palpatine’s lightsaber. At a time when their forces had been stretched so thin, when there seemed to be more Jedi on the front than in the temple, sometimes, it had been difficult to balance the need to be patient with the need to replace the fallen. If it hadn’t been for the urgency of Palpatine’s trial, and the demand to have the Council be secure and strong in the wake of the Sith attempting to act against them, Obi-Wan was sure there would have been more deliberating and less shoehorning in.

That wasn’t to say the three new councillors were not qualified. Quite the contrary. Depa Billaba had already been a member before, but had stepped down due not just to her injury but also to focus fully on training her new Padawan, Caleb. Cin Drallig was more than qualified, and had turned down the position before out of commitment to what he had already been doing full time: training the next generations in the ways of the lightsaber, and leading the security force of Temple Guards. But he had agreed to hold a seat at least temporarily, conscious of the great need, and Obi-Wan thought it was an honor to be able to serve with him.

The last to join their ranks was Luminara. An excellent, if admittedly by-the-book Jedi, Luminara may have never finished training Barriss but she’d handled the girl’s betrayal admirably well. She was kind, compassionate, and more able to let go than Obi-Wan thought he would ever be, if he had to admit it. She would have driven Qui-Gon absolutely mad — Obi-Wan couldn’t remember if they had ever met when himself and Luminara were Padawans together — and sometimes Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if that was a good trait or a bad one.

The only seat that remained, now, was the one Anakin had barely occupied for four or five days, the concept of which Obi-Wan had been against from the start. It wasn’t that Anakin hadn’t been ready (he hadn’t been, but that wasn’t the point) but the circumstances under which the Council had given him a seat. A situation the Council members had conveniently managed to avoid discussing, now that Anakin was gone.

How interesting, Obi-Wan thought. How very interesting.

So that was that. Eleven occupied seats, which wasn’t as good as twelve but would give them more power over Palpatine if he did manage to try something. Which was exactly what they were discussing today.

“Soon to begin, the trial of the Chancellor is. Ready and defensive, we must be, but show him our worry we cannot. Underestimate him, we cannot. Deceived us for a lifetime he has. Allow it to continue, we must not.”

Sorrowful agreement was almost tangible in the room. “And if he wins the trial?” Ki-Adi-Mundi said.

“Allow this, we cannot. Putting together a strong defense, we are. Evidence, we have.”

“Three dead Jedi Masters,” Plo Koon said thoughtfully. “And what else?”

“The changes to the constitution,” Mace said. “Years of corruption. Much of the Senate is on our side.”

“Much, but not all,” Plo countered. “Perhaps not even half. The pressure is on us to prove our claims. We cannot expect the truth to reveal itself. The odds are against us.”

“I agree,” Obi-Wan said. “Our prosecution is in capable hands, but it may not be enough. Palpatine controls this government. He nearly controlled us.”

“He nearly destroyed us,” Plo added, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if even they knew exactly how true that was.

He thought back to Anakin that night, and had to work to repress a shudder.

“We will have to gather testimonials,” Mace said, nodding. He glanced at Obi-Wan with a raised eyebrow, as if sensing his thoughts. “I hate to say it, but Skywalker’s is key.”

Obi-Wan was about to object when instead Yoda spoke up. “Hold off on that we will for now,” he said, and Obi-Wan could not decipher his expression. “Our duty it is to uncover the truth, but highly sensitive this is. Keep Skywalker away from Sidious I would, unless as a last resort.”

“He would make proving our case easier,” Ki-Adi pointed out, but Yoda shook his head.

“The easy path we are not taking. Nothing about this situation is easy.”

“I do not disagree with you, Master,” Shaak Ti said to him, “But Palpatine verbally admitted to Anakin that he is the Sith Lord. I’m aware that eyewitness testimony is not always seen as reliable, but this was a direct confession.”

“The problem is that Palpatine is not on trial for being a Sith Lord,” Windu said. “His defense is adamant that this is irrelevant in his case.”

“But by extension of that fact we know that he was directly controlling Dooku’s movements. That evidence is infallible.”

“Infallible to a Jedi, yes,” Yoda said. “But physical evidence of Sidious’s communiqués with Dooku we do not have. A fact it is that we know, but prove it we cannot, however obvious it may seem to us. Left no trail did Sidious, that we can find.”

“What about the other Sith?” Depa said, speaking up. “What of Maul? I believe Ahsoka Tano said he wanted to defeat Sidious as well?”

“I spoke with him,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. “He refuses to collaborate in any way — though anyone here is welcome to try and persuade him otherwise. After all, he would rather kill me than talk to me.”

“Then would Skywalker not be the next best thing?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I must ask you all to reconsider. Palpatine has a very negative effect on Anakin. Being confronted with what happened before he can work through it on his own is the last thing he needs right now.”

“Agree with you I do, Obi-Wan,” Yoda said, staring at him, “Though I caution you on your line of thinking. Brought us danger Skywalker did, with his attachments. Fall into the same trap, you cannot.”

“And I am making an effort not to do that,” Obi-Wan conceded, “But that isn’t my point, Master. Anakin has barely begun his own recovery. We’ve already asked so much of him. Please let us not put the fate of the Republic on his shoulders again.”

“Do you not trust his ability to be objective?” Windu said, eyeing him.

Obi-Wan exhaled. “I do trust him, Mace, even if you don’t. But you saw him that night. Palpatine has been psychologically abusing him very effectively for over a decade, right under our watch. I agree with Yoda. If it later comes to be absolutely critical, call him in. For now, please, can we let him rest?”

There was a quiet murmur of agreement around the room, and for once Obi-Wan thought he had actually helped to persuade them. At least, when it came to the controversial subject of Anakin’s very existence.

Perhaps the Negotiator was an apt nickname, after all, no matter how ridiculous it was.

“Another matter there is,” Yoda said, changing the subject. “Young Ahsoka Tano has decided to rejoin our ranks.”

Obi-Wan had to bite down a frown. Yes, Ahsoka had decided to come back to the Order, and he wasn’t sure why he felt so uneasy about the whole thing. Not that he wanted to talk her out of it — on the contrary, if that was what she wanted he would be pleased to welcome her back. He simply wasn’t entirely sure that was the case.

Anakin said she’d talked to him about it briefly, and though he hadn’t specified what they’d discussed he clearly thought Ahsoka should do it…but Obi-Wan wasn’t positive. But at the end of the day it was, of course, Ahsoka’s choice, and he would support her as best he could no matter what she decided to do. He owed as much to Ahsoka as he owed to Anakin, after he’d done so much to let them _both_ down….

At least he could sense happiness radiating from Master Plo.

“We will hold her knighting ceremony in two days time at eighteen hundred hours,” Windu stated. “Afterward, she has requested to be reinstated to leadership of the Five Hundred and First Legion, which has been without a general since Skywalker’s departure.”

“A job we have for her already,” Yoda said, “Once knighted she has been. Finally a trace we have of the Separatist Council, though a month old it is now. Obi-Wan?”

He cleared his throat. “Before killing General Grievous, I witnessed the departure of the Separatist Council from Utapau upon Grievous’s orders, but I did not hear of a destination. After the battle had concluded I called upon my commander to gather the remainders of droids located in the hall where I fought Grievous. Technicians have been working to comb through the memory banks of any droid remains to see if there might be a hint of the Separatist Council’s location, as interviews with the local Pau’ans came up dry. We have come to learn that Grievous had directed the Council to hide in the Mustafar system, though that command was given four weeks ago and it is very likely the Separatist leaders could have moved by then.”

“Proven herself with delicate missions, Padawan Tano has,” Yoda said. “An appropriate mission for her and her clones, this will be. Find nothing, she may, but also a lead there may be, if the Separatists are not there. Then an end to the war, we may truly have.”

There were nods of consent and agreement around the room, and it was final. The part of Obi-Wan that was a committed Jedi Master to his Padawans (one less formal than the other) wanted to volunteer to go along with her, to help ease her transition — but he knew she could handle it, and he knew she needed him less than he was needed on Coruscant. He trusted her. She would make him, and Anakin, proud.

And there it was. The Council adjourned, and Obi-Wan went off to think. About an end to the war, as unreal and impossible as it seemed. It had already begun…they just had to make sure it stayed that way.

He only wished he were a _bit_ more confident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻


	5. the outsider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so ends Ahsoka’s rumspringa 
> 
> again this chapter assumes you’ve seen Padmé’s ROTS deleted scenes (or read the novel). they’re on youtube if you haven’t <3
> 
> hope these chapters aren't coming out too fast lmao. since I have so much written I will probably start posting every weekend again. next chapter is where it starts to get very juicy, I think

In a darkened room close to the top of the Tranquility Spire, Ahsoka knelt surrounded by eleven masters, feeling more out of place than she had since — well, maybe yesterday.

“Passed your trials have been,” Yoda was saying formally. “Showed great resilience in the face of adversity, you have. Triumphed have you over Sith, over Grievous, over betrayal, and hopelessness. Admirable leadership qualities do you possess. Earned this ranking you have, and use it well we believe you will.”

“Thank you, Master,” Ahsoka said, bowing her head.

“Accept you the position of Jedi Knight?”

“I do.”

Keeping her head bowed, Ahsoka felt Yoda approach, blade ignited and steady in his hand. He came around to her side, reached up to take hold of her Padawan braid, which she’d hastily produced at the last minute with Obi-Wan’s help because she hadn’t wanted to ask Anakin for her old one back — that he couldn’t be here was enough of a low blow, she didn’t want to rub that in his face even more. So she’d scrambled around with Obi-Wan to procure a string of silka beads similar enough to her last one, only so that she could stick it on her headdress and have it cut off twenty hours later. Ceremony, shmeremony.

The most jarring part about this whole thing really was that Anakin wasn’t here. The second most jarring thing was that this was happening at all. This thing that she’d been dreaming of her whole life. This coveted right of passage. This thing that she wasn’t really sure she wanted at all.

Well, she _did_. Of course she did. The Jedi were her family. At least, they always had been. At the _very_ least, that’s what they’d always said, even if that wasn’t exactly how they had _acted_ , when it had really mattered the most….

Ugh. It was…complicated.

But this _was_ what she wanted. _This_ was what she wanted. This was what she _wanted_.

…

…

…

Oh. Maybe _she_ was one in denial, not Anakin.

Or, okay. Both of them. Because he _definitely_ was.

She’d told him about all of this beforehand, of course. She’d been sort of fluttering between staying at the temple and crashing at Padmé’s apartment (welcomed there, of course) for the last few weeks. But no matter where she went, it felt like she was in limbo. It felt like she was out of place. Didn’t belong at Padme’s with the set of new parents, constantly occupied with their children (she still couldn’t believe Anakin had _children_ ), didn’t feel right in the temple, after everything they’d done to her…didn’t belong, either, down in the underlevels with the interesting pair of sisters she’d somehow traversed the galaxy with in a series of unwise decisions….

But in the end, she’d realized, there was one place she belonged. Or, at least, one place where she was really, totally welcome. One place where everyone was always happy to see her, but had no desire to dote upon her or dwell on what had happened. One place where she didn’t have to think, but could simply act, and escape.

And the only way to get back to the 501st, in the end, had been through being knighted. So, here she was.

She’d discussed it with Yoda briefly, and though he was caring and compassionate as ever she’d gotten the definite sense that even he hadn’t put as much thought into it as he might have before. She was welcome back, he’d said, if that was what she wanted, and if she was prepared for the commitment, and that had essentially been it. She’d expressed interest in leading the 501st for the duration of the war, which was concluding rapidly but hadn’t been completely and entirely wrapped up yet…he’d agreed, and a few days later, she was here kneeling in the Council Chambers surrounded by eleven ignited lightsabers, being initiated back officially into the Order. And Anakin wasn’t even here to see it.

Yoda severed her braid and handed it to her, then stepped back, holding his lightsaber over one shoulder, and then the other, and then raising it back skyward.

“By the right of the Council,” he said as he made the motions, “By the will of the Force, I dub thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic.”*

Ahsoka raised her head. Yoda continued, “Confer upon you further the rank of General, and pass to you command of the Five Hundred and First Legion for the duration of the Clone War. Serve well, and listen to the Force. It’s guidance we all need in this troublesome time. May the Force be with you Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Knight.”

She stood, bowed deeply, and made her way silently out of the chamber to blink in the bright light of the hall, thinking about little more than how anticlimactic this all felt to her.

So it was done. So she was a Knight. A _General_. And so she was ignoring the persistent, incessant voice in her gut telling her that this was so, so wrong, and that she was making a huge mistake.

But was she? After all, hadn’t Anakin himself said that her _leaving_ the Order had been a mistake? But hadn’t that, too, just been him getting too attached, as he always did? Hadn’t he also said he’d thought about leaving, as well? And hadn’t he _left?_ So what did he know? And furthermore, what did her gut know? What was _best_ for her? Well, did her gut have any better ideas about what to do with herself? No? Then for now, this was what she would do.

For now. That was the ticker. Ahsoka could always just leave again, if it didn’t work out. Like, for example, if she got framed for another crime she didn’t commit and the Council decided to abandon her again. But, really, what were the odds of that happening twice?

This was a good thing. It had to be. She was sure. Definitely, positively sure. Yes, absolutely. She was as sure of this as Anakin was sure that he wasn’t traumatized. Yup. That was how very, very sure she was.

So, it was settled. This was definitely, absolutely a great decision on her part. She was so happy to be back at the temple, to be a Jedi Knight and a _general_ in the GAR, of all things. 

And maybe, if she tried hard enough, one day that would actually be true.

* * *

Padmé had been doing the great majority of her work at the Senate offices, which was dreadful in a thousand different ways, but thankfully the only meeting she had today was being hosted at her own apartment, safe away from prying eyes and ears in the Executive Building. For the things that the Loyalist Committee and signees of the Petition of the 2000 urgently had to discuss were hardly something that could be spoken just anywhere, in the event that Palpatine _did_ somehow get acquitted after his upcoming trial.

Worst case scenario. She didn’t want to think about it, yet that was why they were here today.

At least she could be home today. That was the only saving grace of this horrible situation.

They met yet again under the sunny dome of her living area, with the yellow couches and balconies and low caf tables, discussing things that certain people in the Republic may have considered rather treasonous. So, it was a normal day.

“We meet again in the most dire of circumstances, my friends,” Bail started. “That which we most feared is coming to pass right before our eyes.”

“The Republic is failing,” Mon Mothma added. “Palpatine is about to go to trial and if he is not found guilty, losing the fight for democracy may be the last thing we have to worry about.”

“The time for petitions and delegations is over,” Bail said, with a passionate flame in his eyes. “We have tried that, and we have been ignored. If this trial fails, we will have to take a different kind of action. We’re trying to see how much support we will have if the need does arise.”

“I have spoken with King Lee Char,” said Senator Meena Tillis. “You have the support of the Mon Cala government, and the head of our military, Captain Ackbar.”

“I can vouch for how meaningful that support will be if we must call to arms,” Padmé said. She heaved a sigh. “Though I dread what another war might mean for the galaxy. I must state again my insistence that we need to collaborate with the Jedi in this matter.”

Bail nodded. “We now know for certain where the Jedi stand on all of this, and it is clear we share a common goal: bringing Palpatine to justice.”

“My only worry,” Mon cut in, “Is that we must not allow ourselves to be known quite yet. If the trial ends with Palpatine being acquitted, his first target will be the Jedi. If we ally ourselves with them openly, we will be targeted same as them, and possibly neutralized alongside them.”

There was silence in the room. Bana Breemu, who had vocally opposed involving the Jedi in this a few weeks ago, said, “You think Palpatine wishes to dissolve the Jedi?”

“He couldn’t possibly,” Fang Zar of Sern Prime said, baffled by the accusation. “He may have tried to gain control over the Jedi Council, but their Order has stood for thousands of years. Even he couldn’t go so far.”

“I believe Mon is right,” Padmé said, choosing her words carefully. Anakin’s admittance echoed in her mind: _I would have burned this temple to the ground to keep you safe_. She wished she could pretend it wasn’t true. Well, at least it wasn’t _anymore_. Right? “I am friends with several Jedi, and they share the same belief.”

Bail said, “Palpatine’s defense has stated intent to start a legal battle with the Jedi if he is found not guilty. I agree Jedi involvement will be necessary to our cause, but we must be careful of how we go about it. Going to them publicly would be cause for controversy, and suspicion.”

“Our primary goal must be to convict Palpatine of treason,” Padmé said. “Given my long history with Palpatine I have agreed to testify against him as part of their prosecution. Therefore, there are probably some things I should not know, if you follow me.” She paused. “And I don’t mean that I’m unable to keep a secret. Rather, I’m simply afraid of what Palpatine is capable of through the Force. The less people know of any concrete ideas, the better. But I agree we must still prepare for the worst.”

She couldn’t believe she was saying this. Advocating for open war. War _against_ the Republic. Not that it was much of a republic, anymore, at all.

Not that Padmé would call herself a straight pacifist by any definition. She was no Satine Kryze, rest her soul. But for her, war and combat had always been a last resort, as it must be now. It _must_.

“If we are going to gather support,” Bail said, “We must ensure it is reliable support. Those we can rely on to follow through in the event that Palpatine wins.”

“We have Chandrila and Alderaan behind us,” Mon said, “And Meena has pledged Mon Cala. Padmé, have you any idea whether the Naboo would support us?”

“I’ve not discussed this with Queen Apailana or the Gungun chief,” she started, “But I —”

In that moment, she heard the sound she heard about thirty times a day, one of the babies — she thought it might be Leia — crying. It was faint, but her head snapped in the direction of the sound instinctively, as if for that one moment she’d been granted the power of the Force. Then she looked back at the other senators, who were all staring at her.

Oops. She hadn’t realized how far that sound would carry.

She cleared her throat. Gathered herself for just one moment, as if nothing was wrong. “And many of the people in the queen’s court feel personally responsible for allowing Palpatine to accrue so much power. That said, it has taken us a long time to recover from Trade Federation’s invasion, and tensions with the Gunguns have been shifting over the course of the war. I cannot confirm whether or not they would be able or willing to lend support.”

No one spoke. She frowned. She could still hear Leia, or maybe Luke. She was getting better at telling their cries apart, but she wasn’t always right. “I apologize for the interruption, Senators. I’m sure it will be momentary, as my — mother is here and will attend to the baby.”

Then the other one started crying, and Padmé fought the urge to wince. “Babies.”

“I didn’t know,” Mon said, a smile dawning on her face. “How old are — they?”

“Five weeks,” Padmé said, unable to suppress a loving grin. “I had them the night Palpatine was arrested, actually.” She cleared her throat. “I — I wasn’t going to announce this yet, but I suppose it would be prudent to do so now…I am actually planning on retiring from the Senate as soon as Palpatine’s trial is concluded. One of many reasons I’m determined to see him convicted,” she added with a little laugh. 

“Your commitment to the cause is astounding, sometimes,” Bail said, a twinkle in his eyes.

“It’s difficult,” she confessed, “But I’ve come this far in the opposition to a tyrant. I can’t step down now.” Another pause. “And I assure you I _am_ committed, and I would prefer to be able to continue working for now. So I hope you will all respect my wishes and keep the existence of my children a secret. I simply wouldn’t want any news outlets to become…distracted.” There were nods all around the room. “Now, please let us continue working.”

“Indeed,” Mon said. “There is danger in trusting the political process right now. Palpatine has made four amendments to the constitution rendering it unrecognizable from before the Clone War. His court defense will attempt to use the legality of these changes to deny any claims of treason. I dread the possibility of their success, but in that event, we must be ready and waiting. An immediate call to arms would be unwise until we know exactly who our allies are and what powers they hold.”

“We are all in agreement, I believe,” Bail said. “Mon and I will work on the sidelines, in the shadows. Padmé will work publicly in the Senate, as a sort of cooperative public face of our movement.” He glanced sideways at her. “You are aware of the risk, I assume?”

“I am,” she confirmed. “Yet another reason I must ask for your discretion. As you all know, there have been many attempts on my life. I would like for those attempts to be _only_ on my life, and not my family’s. But I will not hold back. I admit I’ve begun to lose faith in the political process, but there is yet some hope. In some ways, goodness has already prevailed. The Jedi were able to make this arrest only at great cost to their own. They will fight tooth and nail to prevent a Sith Lord from being returned to power.”

“I worry the Senate does not share their fears,” Giddean Danu said. “From what I’ve heard, this revelation means little to most.”

“People fear what they do not understand,” Padmé said. “And even I, a friend of the Jedi, barely understand the Sith. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.”

“How?”

“The Jedi I have spoken of, the one that I said we can trust,” Padmé said, and she realized her voice was incredibly hushed. “He is a member of the Jedi Council, and has personally encountered the Sith many times. He will help us if I ask him, and it could be a way to work closely with the Jedi without our connection becoming known.”

Bail looked thoughtful, and she was for some reason grateful when he kept his voice down as well. “You’re speaking of Master Kenobi?” She nodded. “I agree with Padmé. I would most welcome his help.”

“Are you absolutely certain this is a good move?” Bana said warily. “Would it not look suspicious were someone to notice him attending our meetings here?”

“Not at all,” Padmé said casually. “As I said, he is a personal friend. He’s been over here a few times of late. This would appear to be nothing more than one of those friendly visits.”

Mon was frowning at her, and Padmé retroactively heard how her words must have sounded. “I have no wish to pry into your personal circle, Padmé, but I’m afraid there is more to this than you’re admitting.”

There was a lurch in her gut as Padmé suddenly realized what she’d gotten herself into here. On the one hand, they really needed to work with the Jedi if they were going to bring Palpatine down, when all cards were in his favor and the entire structure of the government had been designed by him to see them fail.

On the other hand…everything that she was afraid to tell her colleagues now was information that Palpatine already had. In fact, the very thing she was doing — trying to get the Loyalists to accept Obi-Wan’s, and the Jedi’s help — was precisely something that Palpatine had tried to use to get Anakin on his side. It wasn’t impossible he still had plans, that he was plotting away in his secure prison cell, to use his knowledge of this in his favor somehow, as he had before. But the thing was — she didn’t have to let him have all the power. Palpatine may be holding all the cards, but she could take some of them back if she made the right move. If she reclaimed the truth for herself and took control of it.

Though, there was one card Palpatine didn’t have…he couldn’t possibly, there was no way….

He did not, in fact, know that it was twins.

She swallowed. No. Padmé would not follow that chain of thought through to conclusion.

After a long moment of deliberation, conscious of her friends staring at her, she came to a decision. “You’re right. No secrets among us, only secrets from Palpatine. The reason that I know we can trust Obi-Wan, and the reason that he has been coming over here, is because my babies’ father is Anakin Skywalker.”

Despite everything that was going on — the universe ending, and all that — Padmé could not _believe_ how good it felt to say that out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> them: the prequels are so boring and political
> 
> me, with 30 open wookieepedia tabs and 20 more on US politics: ROTS extended edition with Padmé’s rebel alliance subplot when?
> 
> *Also I took this line from the Tartakovsky Clone Wars (2002), which I’ve never actually seen but I will eventually, maybe
> 
> Also also, this fic is officially an unofficial nanowrimo but like, completely by accident (if you don't know, that just means I wrote 50,000 words in the month of November. HUZZAH)


	6. obsessions

The faces around Padmé’s living area-turned-conference hall could best be described as shocked. Except for Bail’s, that was, which was bordering more on…comprehension. All of that was fair — revealing that she’d covertly had children with the galaxy’s Jedi hero was bound to turn a few heads.

“Senator,” Meena said carefully. “I don’t mean to doubt your integrity, but you realize this is not the best look.”

“Which is exactly why I have chosen to keep it to myself,” Padmé said. “And to reveal it myself now. I would prefer you hear it from me, rather than an untrusted source. In fact, that’s just it — the reason I am comfortable sharing this with you now is mainly because Palpatine has this information as well.”

There was silence around the room, but Padmé would not allow them to form false opinions about her loyalty. Not when that was the _opposite_ of what she was trying to do. “And before anyone can jump to conclusions, I swear to you that this was a tight-lipped secret between me and my husband. In fact, the only reason this is relevant, beyond you all deserving the truth, is that Palpatine obtained this information using his Force powers, which is _exactly_ the reason why we need to be working with the Jedi. Just because people in the Senate don’t understand exactly what it means for him to be a Sith doesn’t mean it isn’t still a very relevant and dangerous truth.”

“I must point out,” Fang Zar said, “That General Skywalker was accompanying the Chancellor when we presented the Petition of the Two Thousand. With all due respect, Senator Amidala, this — well, let’s just say I concur with Senator Tillis.”

“I don’t disagree, Senator,” Padmé said. “I will tell you what I can. As you will recall, part of Palpatine’s last series of emergency powers was an attempt to gain control over the Jedi Council. His method of doing this was to try to appoint my husband as a sort of mediator between him and the Council. Anakin’s job was to pass information between the two parties. And — well, this information will probably come out during the trial, but I’d rather it not to be a surprise to any of you — the Jedi arrested Palpatine based off my husband’s information. He went to the Jedi, and informed them that Palpatine was a Sith Lord.”

The faces around the room appeared to process this information. Padmé continued, “I hope we can agree that this information should not yet leave this room.” She glanced at Bail and Mon. “I am in full agreement with your unspoken plans, but I hope you can all understand why Jedi involvement is imperative. Palpatine has powers the likes of which none of us can comprehend. Powers not even the Jedi themselves fully understand.”

“You have my full trust, Padmé,” Mon said, quietly, barely above a whisper. “ _You_ do. And I’m inclined to agree that Jedi involvement would be severely helpful. And I know if I express my concern, you will not take it personally.” Padmé nodded for her to continue. “I have met General Skywalker several times, and I do not question his valor. But it’s no secret that he is close personally with Palpatine. Being as objective as you can, do you believe he is trustworthy?”

“I understand your concerns, including the ones you’ve not explicitly spoken,” Padmé conceded. “And there are certain things I cannot disclose to protect Anakin’s privacy. But I know him. He values loyalty and trust above all other traits, and I can attest that Palpatine has shattered that trust.” She bit her lip for a moment, thinking. “In truth I have never spoken to Anakin of these meetings. But I can assure each and every one of you — and I would stake my own life on this. I helped to get Palpatine into office thirteen years ago, and I am prepared to stop at nothing until he is out of it.”

She looked around at all of them, and her voice slowly climbed back to a normal volume. “As hard as I have tried to end this war, to end suffering, I will get that man out of office if it kills me. And I believe the best way to ensure that comes to pass is to work with the Jedi. And I agree that discretion is key, in case — as you said, Mon — in case he attempts to do away with the Jedi. This is a collective effort. Palpatine has many, many allies, people profiting off of his war, people who want a role as governor, and so on. We need to band together to combat him. We need all the help we can get.”

Bail was nodding now. “I’m in agreement.”

“I trust your faith, Padmé,” Mon said. “As was discussed, Bail and I shall work behind the scenes. As long as everyone agrees, you have my approval to contact Master Kenobi and see what he thinks.”

Everyone around the room acknowledged their approval. Padmé said, “I will discuss this with Obi-Wan. If he has any reservations, I am absolutely certain he would keep the secret for us.”

“It is settled, then,” Bail said. “As agreed, we must keep this small for now, so as not to arouse suspicion. Avoid speaking over comm channels, and be wary of discussing this with each other in the Senate buildings. Palpatine’s meetings with his advisors and defense team are required to be private, and even the Jedi would not be aware if they catch onto us. Be extremely cautious. The Republic depends on us, now.”

“And we will not let the people down,” Padmé agreed, standing. After they said goodbyes, her colleagues left, and she sighed. It was as if a weight she hadn’t known she’d been burdened with had been lifted off her. A couple weights, actually. That was a lot.

Smoothing her dress, she made her way to check on the twins, down the hall to her bedroom where they were —

And Anakin appeared to have been waiting for her. He was casually leaning against the wall into her bedroom. He looked at her, his expression positively glowering. 

“How are your _friends?_ ”

She stared at him. “What?”

“I heard what you were talking about.”

Padmé blinked, feeling a crease in her brow. “You were eavesdropping?”

“No!” he said indignantly. “You were right down the hall. I couldn’t help but hear.”

“Anakin,” she said calmly, “That’s eavesdropping.”

“So is it all true?” he said coldly, his gaze steely and hard. “What he said about you? You actually were working with Obi-Wan against him? And you didn’t tell me?”

Oh, goodness. “Anakin, no.”

“I felt him!” he snapped, looming over her, seeming taller than he normally did. “The day Obi-Wan left for Utapau, he was in your apartment! So were all the Loyalists!”

“Anakin,” she said once more, trying so hard to be patient, “I _told_ you why he was here. He was worried about you, because you were acting — the way you were.”

“But you wanted him here for other reasons!” he accused in a voice oddly hushed. Well, at least he was still considerate of the sleeping twins even when he was being annoying. “I heard you say it! Admit it!”

“I _wanted_ the help of the Jedi to bring a peaceful end to the war!” she said, matching the volume of his voice. “You know that! This isn’t news!”

“And you and him would have gone behind my back to do that! Just like the Chancellor said you were doing! He said you were traitors, going to overthrow him! Was he right?”

Padmé blinked again, her mouth falling slightly open. “I cannot believe what I’m hearing,” she breathed, staring at Anakin incredulously like she’d never seen him. “Are you actually defending him?”

Confused hurt flashed across his face for a moment. “No, I…of course not.”

“You are,” she said softly. “Anakin, don’t you see? You’re still under his spell. Break out of it!”

He looked away, and then back. “Does that mean I’m right?”

Padmé took a minute. Her gaze did not leave his for even a second, and she had to wrestle down an impatient sigh. “Anakin Skywalker, I gave birth to two children a _month_ ago and yet I am going to work six days a week to try to prove that Palpatine is a traitor. And you know why I’m doing that? For _you_. For what he did to you. For what he did to the Republic. Palpatine is a dictator, a Sith Lord, a warmonger, a manipulator, a tyrant. He spent three years changing the terms of the Constitution to give himself more power and he worked with Count Dooku to start the war so that he could use it to keep himself in office and make himself look good. And it _worked_. Everyone fell for it. _Everyone_ , even you. _Especially_ you.”

Suddenly, she took both of his hands in hers and squeezed them hard. “I love you, Anakin, I really do, but sometimes loving you is so _hard_.”

Anakin looked down at their hands with an unsure, doubtful look on his face. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, thinking.

She sighed, and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Ani…come on. We need to talk.”

Quickly she hooked up the baby monitor Sola had given her and then led him through the closet and down onto the veranda, trying to think of what she wanted to say. Because it was true, she did love him, loved him deeply — but sometimes, her love for him had to be a little tough. Sometimes, he needed a firm hand.

Anakin was many, many things — an excellent father who loved his children, a loving husband whose passion — obsession — possessiveness — had almost brought the Republic to its doom…and sometimes, accordingly, he was really, wildly, _unbelievably_ hard to deal with. 

Him being obsessive was nothing new. He was obsessed with her, after all, there was no way around it, and that obsession had transferred over to their twins. He doted upon them all day, played with them, changed them, spent hours staring at their little faces. Padmé loved doing all of those things, too (when she wasn’t working six days a week!) because it meant she got to spend time with them, but with Anakin it was just…well....

She had her suspicions. Namely, that he was so hung up over what could have been, over what he almost did, so trapped inside his own mind that he used the babies as an excuse to escape. He leaned into his obsession, so mournful over how convinced he had been that they had all been foretold to die…that now he simply felt he could not leave the twins alone. 

This was a whole new level of obsession beyond anything Padmé had ever known from him. And it had to stop. Things had to change. So now, leading him into the veranda to have a much needed, long awaited talk…Padmé decided she absolutely could not take this emotional wall between them for another minute more. Could not take his possessiveness and need for control for another damn second.

When Padmé sat down, she tried not to think that this reminded her of the time they’d nearly broken up — _had_ broken up — after he’d gone absolutely berserk and nearly killed Clovis. An act of impulse, a violent reaction, from a man who seemed to have less control over his emotions by the day. Maybe she should talk to Obi-Wan about that.

But for now, she would talk to Anakin himself. Because this was long overdue.

Very, very long overdue.

So long, in fact, that she had no idea where to start. So she said, trying to find the words, “Listen, I —”

“Do you not trust me?” Anakin said suddenly, though not angrily, and she looked up at him in shock.

“What?”

“With your Senate group. Your secret meetings. Your petitions. You don’t trust me.”

“Anakin....”

Padmé tried to reach for his hand, but he yanked it away. “‘Cause I’m the Chancellor’s protégé, right?”

She twisted in her seat to face him and leaned her elbow on the top of the bench. “You said yourself that you told him everything.”

“So what, I can’t think for myself?”

“Did I say that?” she said, a helpless eyebrow raised. “Do you really think I feel that way? Anakin…do _you_ trust _me?_ ”

She gave him a moment to think, but the fact that it even took him a moment made the answer quite clear. “I don’t know.”

“Stop this,” Padmé said, “Stop deflecting. Tell me how you feel. Didn’t I say we need to be honest with each other?”

Anakin heaved a sigh. “I don’t think I really trust anyone right now. I —”

Then he shook his head and looked away.

“You can talk to me,” Padmé said, needing him to understand that. “You can _always_ talk to me.”

He shrugged, trying to pretend it was nothing. “I just feel like I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”

“I can understand that.”

He glared at her. “No, you can’t. You always know what’s going on.”

“Anakin…no, I don’t.” Padmé could keep the exasperation from her voice, but she knew he must feel it from her in the Force. “I’m not as perfect as you seem to think I am sometimes. Ani…you’re not the only one that’s been used by him.”

He looked up at her sharply, and now she definitely had his attention. She continued, “This war, this government, it’s all just a game to him. And knowing what I know now, of _course_ I trust you. But — you have to understand what it looked like to me before. You used to defend his every word, his every action. It felt like whenever he and I were at odds you would always take his side. And I — I felt a little betrayed, I won’t lie. And I don’t blame you for it, not now, because it was exactly what he wanted, but don’t you see? This was _all_ his plan! He _wanted_ me not to trust you. He _wanted_ to split us apart. He wanted to break your faith in me, in Obi-Wan, in the Jedi. And Ani…it worked.”

Bringing a hand to his eyes, he nodded in resignation. “I’m sorry.”

“Please,” she begged, “Please don’t be sorry. It’s going to take a very long time to come back from this, for both of us. I won’t pretend like I’ve been manipulated by him as much as you were, but please believe me when I say that to a certain extent, I understand. Palpatine used me to advance his own political career more times than I can even remember, and that knowledge just makes me feel — dirty. Guilty. I _understand_. You feel like it was your fault because you went along with his abuse, not knowing that’s what it was. You feel guilty for not realizing the truth sooner. So do I! I got him into office, Ani, and for the longest time I blamed myself for his claims to power. I let him send me away to Naboo during the Separatist Crisis and he used Jar Jar to get his emergency powers approved because he knew it wouldn’t happen if I was there! I had been fighting against the Military Creation Act for _ages_. Every single move he ever made was calculated, and there’s no way any of us could have known at the time. Think about it, if even the Jedi Council themselves didn’t pick up on his deception, how were you supposed to?”

Anakin just stared off into the distance, appearing to soak this in. 

“I _understand_ you, Anakin. Now, I need _you_ to try to understand _me_. I know we’ve never agreed on politics but you must realize, the only thing I have _ever_ wanted was for this war to end and for the galaxy to return to peace. Please, please try to see it from my perspective. I didn’t want to remove Palpatine’s emergency powers because I didn’t like him as a person. I wanted to do that because I saw every change he made to the constitution as a threat to the democratic process itself. And the thing is, we’re not out of the woods yet. Palpatine is about to be tried by a Senate that he has spent the last thirteen years gaining authoritative control over. He even tried to gain control over the Jedi Council! That is not a democracy, Ani, no matter _what_ he told you.”

He bit his lip, looking ashamed. “He told me every senator on the Petition of the Two Thousand was a traitor. And that the Jedi wanted control of the Senate. That everything he’d done was a necessary measure to prevent that.”

Padmé nodded. “Now, tell me honestly. No judgement here, okay? Do you still believe that?”

His mouth twisted into a frown. “I tried to argue with him. I wanted to believe you. But he said I was wrong.”

“But do you believe it _now?_ ”

“I don’t think so,” Anakin said quietly. “But I don’t know for sure.”

Maybe now they were getting somewhere. Padmé didn’t know the Force, but she couldn’t help but to thank it and sing its blessings in her soul. 

Anakin looked at her again. “So what _are_ you doing with the Loyalist Committee?”

“Right now we’re trying to reach as many senators as possible so they can understand essentially what I just told you,” she said. “Palpatine’s poison has dripped into far many more ears than just yours and mine. We’re afraid the Senate is going to acquit him at the end of the trial. Or worse, shut the trial down before the truth can be brought out.”

An apprehensive frown stretched across his face. “And what happens if they do?”

“I don’t know, and I’m determined to make sure we don’t find out.”

“Would the Senate be able to reinstate him, though? Even though he’s a Sith?” He made a face. “I guess that’s more of a question for Obi-Wan.”

“Truthfully, I don’t think being a Sith means much to most outside the Jedi,” she said. “It means something to me, especially after everything that happened on Naboo, but I’m sure that will come up at length during the trial. I’m really not sure how that will affect anything.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Padmé realized what he was really asking. She looked at him. “Are you worried he’ll come after you?”

His frown deepened. “If he’s set free…none of us will be safe.”

The veil of that thought weighed heavily over her. _Us_. Them. Their children. Their family.

“Can I…,” Anakin said slowly. “You said you wanted to be honest, right?”

“Right....”

“This is going to sound so wrong,” he said, and now his voice was hushed. “But sometimes…it’s like, even after everything, after all the stuff we talked about before the twins were born, with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, I…I actually miss him.”

Instinctively, Padmé raised a hand to brush some hair back in comfort. “I’m sure that’s normal. He was a part of your life for a long time.”

In a flash, he suddenly looked younger. Vulnerable. Like a part of his soul was still a child, and that child was frightened of a scary monster. “You know how I said I was going to join him…you know I meant that, right?” He swallowed, and the protrusion in his neck bobbled. “You know I really would have done it.”

“You didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said, “But if Obi-Wan hadn’t been there, if you and Ahsoka hadn’t been there, I would have cut down every single Jedi in that hangar to save him if that’s what he’d told me to do.” He swallowed again, and made a face like he was sucking on something sour. “I would have stood at his side and swallowed his lies and killed whoever he told me to kill. You’re talking about understanding each other — I need you to understand, Padmé, exactly who it is you’re married to. You _know_ what I’m capable of.”

“Anakin,” she said, more loving than exasperated this time, “I asked _you_ to marry _me._ Yes, I know what you did. Yes, I have an idea of what you might have done. Yes, I know what you’re capable of. Great pain, and great anger, but also great _love_. And I know now that maybe our love isn’t always enough to protect us from harm. Maybe your love wouldn’t have been enough to save me if the visions had been true. Maybe my love for you won’t keep Palpatine out of office. But maybe my actions _can_. That’s what I’ve been doing with the Delegation: protecting my two — my _four_ greatest loves. You, our children, and democracy. Freedom. The people. I will not stop until that man has been stripped of his power. Are you going to support me?”

He sighed, for some reason looking relieved. “I will.”

Finally, she took his hand again. “And when this is all over,” Padmé said, “We’re going to work more on us, okay? And we _do_ need work. I think this might be the deepest conversation we’ve ever had.”

Anakin flashed her an exhausted smile. “I think I’m the one that needs work,” he admitted. “Maybe Obi-Wan is right…maybe I do need therapy.”

A grin took over her whole face. “You know, they say admitting it is the first step to recovery.”

He threw his head back, as if it was too heavy to hold up. “It’s like, I get it, you know? I know logically that I need help. But it’s like my brain keeps telling me I’m fine.”

She fingered one of his curls playfully. “That’s a thing, you know. It’s called denial.”

Anakin nodded dully. “I was using the kids as an excuse to put it off. With the trial, and everything I just…I don’t want to think about any of it.” He rubbed at his eyes. “How about you just…do whatever you need to with the Loyalists and I won’t ask about it. I don’t want to know about it. I trust you.”

“Do you?”

“I think so,” he said, appearing truthful. “At the very least I trust you as the mother of my — _our_ children.”

“And I you,” Padmé said, smiling. “I hate that I have to keep working — I really, _really_ hate it — and you know all I want to do is sleep and cuddle with the twins. But like I told the queen, I just have to get over this hurdle and then it’ll just be us. We’ll go to Naboo, be a family.”

“You’re amazing for doing all that,” he said, looking at her like one looked at the most coveted gemstone. “I’m sorry I’m such an ungrateful jerk.”

“And I’m sorry I was so harsh,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment, and then twisting her face toward his. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning in until his lips were just brushing against hers, and Padmé closed the distance between them in what might have been their first real kiss beyond a peck here and there since before the babies were born. She really couldn’t remember but didn’t feel the need to, because now he was here, and she was here, and she was suddenly absolutely ravenous for him and his penchant for romance and affection and his absolutely sculpted body reminiscent of the statues in Theed of the God of the Sun....

Padmé twisted in her seat, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him in closer to her, thinking absentmindedly they couldn’t go as far as she wanted to because she was still _really_ sore down there but at least they could go halfway, maybe, and unleash a few weeks of pent up emotions in the steamiest make out session they’d had in ages because honestly, they deserved it—

And then a baby started crying through the monitor on the table, and they broke apart.

They stared at each other, astonished, and then suddenly she was giggling and he was laughing and for just the briefest moment it was like that afternoon in the Lake Country when they’d been rolling around in a field of yellow wildflowers, the looming conflict practically nonexistent in their minds, an escape from every single thing that plagued them in this horrible, messy galaxy....

They would be back there soon, Padmé hoped as she got up to feed the twins, both physically and mentally. They would. The quicker she could do what had to be done, the quicker she would be home. With Anakin. And their family.

Soon. Very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my official word count for November is 62,000 words (that's a short novel!) all in this story...I know that might seem like just a number but like holy shit that's what happens when stranestelle gives me an idea (mutual shoutout this week hahaha) we'll all be seeing each other until at least February my friends! Hope you hang around!
> 
> edit: not that anyone cares but I was rereading this and I just remembered Star Wars has 5 day weeks apparently. space magic and lightspeed are fine but apparently I can't wrap my head around anything but a 7 day week lmao


	7. to be human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer and warning: I am not a psychologist lol. direct discussion of abuse and grooming and the hot mess that is Anakin Skywalker's psyche

After nearly four long years of war and a more tumultuous teenagedom than most kids her age could possibly dream of, Ahsoka had finally been given her first assignment as a Jedi Knight. How very…very…very…exciting.

Yup, _three_ very’s was exactly how excited she felt as she stepped aboard the flagship of the 501st. It was not the same one on which she’d rendezvoused with Anakin and Obi-Wan before the Siege, as that one had been damaged during the battle over Coruscant a few hours later. No, this was a shiny new triangular beast that was due to transport her to Mustafar, of all places, a hellish fiery planet that she’d hoped never to have to visit again. 

But here she was. A Jedi Knight, and very enthusiastic about that fact as well. Go her.

She’d just barely gotten reacquainted with her familiar surroundings when she heard a very pleasantly familiar voice say, “You just had to go and upstage me, kid. Couldn’t stand to be the same rank as old Rex here, could ya?”

Ahsoka turned toward him, pretending to suppress her smile, and folded her arms over her chest in a defiant pose. “You know me, Rex. Between me and Anakin, _I’m_ the cocky one.”

“Welcome aboard, _General,_ ” Rex said to her with a salute, and Ahsoka immediately felt her face sour. Her friend noticed immediately and released a hearty chuckle. “Yeah, that’s how I feel, too. I hear people call out ‘commander’ and I think they must be talking to someone else.”

“I know what you mean. I’m never going to get used to that.”

“You might not have to,” Rex said casually. “If the war actually ends like they’re saying.”

“ _They_ say a lot of things,” Ahsoka huffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’m with you there, kid,” he said, looking off into the distance. Then he glanced at her and winked. “Ahem. General.”

She bat him on the arm playfully and headed up with him to the bridge, reconnected with Admiral Yularen, tried to ignore how unbelievably, wildly out of line she felt acting in Anakin’s stead….

After she finished doing all her boring stuff — honestly, she’d been given a barebones instruction, and most of what she did was just going off all Anakin’s old protocols that she’d watched him do for years — she walked off with Rex to the mess to catch up. The room was loud and crowded, and felt more like home to her, somehow, than the temple had in the past month. After waving over at a few dozen men each in turn, all of them excited to see _General_ Tano (ugh) she sat with Rex in an empty corner and picked at her food.

“How is General Skywalker?” he said.

Ahsoka rested her chin in her hand. “That depends. Have you talked with Obi-Wan at all?”

“Haven’t had the chance, no. All I know is that the general left the Jedi.”

“Oh. Well, I’m happy to inform you that Anakin is, in fact, on diaper duty.”

“No!” Ahsoka watched as Rex’s eyebrows shot up in a comically shocked way, and he leaned in after checking that no one around them was listening in. “With Senator Amidala?”

Now it was Ahsoka’s turn to be numbly shocked. “Yeah…how did you know?”

Rex smirked. “I’m just extremely perceptive, is all.” Ahsoka quirked an eyebrow, and he dropped the act and started snickering. “Few months ago on Subterrel he got some shrapnel in his leg. Got all loopy on painkillers and wouldn’t stop talking about the senator. Then, of course, he made me his confidante since he hadn’t told anyone else.” He sighed wistfully. “Ever since I’ve been roped into helping him keep his little secret. I’ll miss the man but it’ll be nice not having to cover up for him around General Kenobi.”

“Of course he would,” Ahsoka said, giggling. “Yeah, that’s why I had to rush off when you and I got back to Coruscant with Maul. Anakin was…being Anakin.”

There was a _little_ more to it than that, of course, but…well, to be honest that was still a pretty accurate description of what happened.

They talked for a long time, with Rex catching her up on everything that’d happened since her departure, all the things they hadn’t had time to talk about on the way to or from Mandalore because everything had all been happening at once and there hadn’t been any time…but now it was just like the old days. Now, just for this brief conversation, Ahsoka actually felt, almost, like she _was_ in the right place, like she _had_ made the right decision, and surely she’d just been getting a little cold feet, was all….

Rex told her about the Outer Rim Sieges, how they’d all been on active duty for about five or six months straight, which she supposed explained why Anakin hadn’t known about the pregnancy…there was some stuff on Cato Neimoidia that “the generals” had gotten into, some things about the Banking Clan on Scipio and also Quinlan Vos and Ventress, oh and that apparently Echo had survived the Citadel and they’d saved him from being a Separatist slave before he’d gone off to serve with Clone Force 99, which Ahsoka had never heard of….

And though all of that was pretty wild in Rex’s retellings of it, the thing that really shocked her the most was his account of what had happened with Fives.

She’d been wondering about Fives since she realized he wasn’t around during the Siege, but she hadn’t asked after him given the circumstances, and then given the later circumstances with Anakin, and then she’d forgotten about it — but she’d never expected…this. First Tup had killed a Jedi, then Fives had gone to Kamino, and then come back and allegedly attacked the Chancellor, and then fled, and then found Rex and Anakin and claimed that the clones had inhibitor chips, and that there was a conspiracy involving the Chancellor, and then Fives had been shot before he could elaborate, and —

“Wait,” Ahsoka said suddenly. “A conspiracy with the Chancellor? Has anyone been looking into this?”

“They closed the case,” Rex said, shrugging. “Said Fives and Tup’s behavior was caused by some parasite on Ringo Vinda. Gave us all a vaccine for it.”

“What did Fives say the conspiracy was?”

“Something about how the inhibitor chips are a plot to control us all. That they could even get us to attack the Jedi, somehow. Honestly, he was acting kinda loopy when he came to us about it, but I wanted to do right by him so I filed an official report asking for a further investigation into his claims. Nothing ever came of it.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Inhibitor chips…that does sound pretty ominous.”

“The Kaminoans acknowledged them officially since it was such a high profile case. They said that removing them could kill us, or that we could kill those around us if we go crazy.” He huffed. “Like Fives and Tup did, according to them. Never did like them, much.”

They poked at their cold food for a few minutes, the heavy weight of their conversation topic looming over them.

Then Rex’s fork clattered out of his hand.

“The Chancellor,” he breathed suddenly. “Of course….”

“What is it?”

“The parasite,” Rex said, his gaze unfocused as he dwelt on the memory. “General Skywalker said news of the parasite came from the Chancellor himself. Not the Jedi. Not even the Kaminoans.”

Ahsoka’s mouth fell open. “There _has_ to be something there.” Rex nodded, stunned. “Is there any way for us to look into it?”

“I’d say we could go to the general, but I guess he doesn’t have that kind of authority anymore….”

“I’m a Knight now,” she said. “You’re a commander. That has to mean something.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I’m not usually the biggest revenge man, but I’d _really_ like to know what happened to Fives….”

“So let’s find out,” Ahsoka said simply. “Hopefully the Separatist Council will still be on Mustafar and we can go home and do some digging.”

“I guess that’s as good a plan as any,” Rex said wistfully. “Fives, my brother…maybe you were onto something after all.”

A conspiracy, some Seperatists to arrest, and a revenge mission….

Finally, something interesting to do. Maybe this was the right choice on her part after all.

_Maybe_. It remained to be seen. At the very least, maybe she could do what Rex was saying — do right by Fives, and do her part in taking down the Chancellor. Maybe _that_ was why she was here.

…Maybe.

* * *

Of all the places on all the planets in all the star systems in all the galaxies in the entire universe, this was the absolute last place that Anakin wanted to be. Either right now, or at any point ever in his life.

_Therapy_. Talk therapy. Talking. He didn’t _want_ to talk. Why couldn’t he just continue to stew privately in his own self-loathing the way he had always done? Like, how would this _really_ help? In what way could he _possibly_ benefit from this thing that everyone who cared about him insisted he so desperately needed?

…Ugh. Maybe this would go quickly, as the therapist — Dr. Seig Druyan, a Wroonian — was _sure_ to realize that the Jedi had really overblown this whole thing, the abuse wasn’t actually that, Anakin was perfectly fine and could continue to go about his life without spilling his darkest secrets to this blue woman sitting across him with a datapad in her lap and a stylus in her hand, looking at a questionnaire they’d had him fill out that was full of stupid questions like, did he have trouble finding motivation for day-to-day tasks? and, did he often feel empty inside? and, did he have trouble opening up to those he was close to?

He’d thought about lying, but he figured if he told the truth (yes, yes, and yes) he’d be able to get this over with sooner. He was, apparently, very wrong.

“So, Anakin,” the doctor said, “Tell me in your words why you think the Jedi wanted you to see me.”

“Well…they say I was abused.”

She smiled kindly. “In your _own_ words.”

“Uh…because…,” he said, trying to figure out what she wanted him to say. “I…was…groomed, apparently?”

She nodded, thinking. “Do you agree?”

“I think they’re blowing it out of proportion a little, is all.”

“Okay,” she said, “So, in your words, if you can, tell me a little about your relationship with the Chancellor.”

Anakin shrugged. “He’s — he was a…friendly mentor, I guess.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Since I was nine.”

“Did he initiate contact?” Anakin nodded. “Can you tell me about that?”

So he did, recounting in brief the story of how he’d helped save Naboo, and how the newly elected Chancellor had spoken with Anakin at length afterward, how it had developed into a sort of grandfatherly relationship over the years…. Anakin didn’t go into any of the, uh, later details yet, because he didn’t know this woman, and also because he didn’t want to talk about it, because he didn’t want to talk about any of this at all at any point so could he leave now, please —

Dr. Druyan nodded along contemplatively as he spoke, and when he was done she appeared to think for a moment before speaking again.

“So,” she said, “Before we really get into anything deep, there’s a few things I like to tell all of my patients. First,” she ticked it off on her finger, “Therapy can be very difficult and very ineffective when one doesn’t wish to be helped. Now, at face value it seems to me like you don’t think you need it — though I can confirm that you do — but I think that deep down, you do want to be helped. It’s an important step that you decided of your own accord to accept the help from the Jedi that was being offered to you, even if it did take a little while to get to that point.

“Second,” she said, ticking off another finger, “Sometimes, therapists and patients are not a good match for each other. There’s nothing wrong with that. Therapy can be a difficult process for some people because it requires building a trusting relationship where the recipient of care feels comfortable confiding in their therapist. If you do not feel that way with me, I want you to say so, and I will help you to find someone with whom you are more comfortable. If that is, or becomes, the case, there is no judgement, no shame in it. It is the nature of this type of care.

“And third, the simple but hard truth is that it’s almost certainly going to get worse before it gets better. Therapy can be a struggle, and sometimes going over these thoughts and feelings one has can make them feel worse in the short term. I need you to know before we jump in that this is completely normal, and I encourage you to tell me how you’re feeling along the way so that I can understand how you’re taking everything and adjust the course of treatment if necessary.”

Anakin frowned. “But…how long before it works?”

“It may be a while,” she said patiently. “Everyone is different. Everyone has different experiences. Your situation is quite unique, and your abuse has been going on for a long time, so it may similarly take a long time for treatment to start feeling like it’s helping.”

“So…a few months?”

Dr. Druyan smiled. “Almost certainly longer. But I promise it will be worth it when you get there. You owe it to yourself at least to try, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I owe it to my friends.”

“You owe it to _yourself_ , Anakin. You are worthy of being helped. You deserve to be helped.”

Hmph. How long before she realized that wasn’t true?

“Let me tell you a bit about myself,” she said, putting down the datapad with his stupid questionnaire full of stupid questions. “I studied at the Coronet University of Medicine on Corellia with a specialty in psychiatry and I practiced there for a few years before I decided I wanted to focus more on psychology and less on the medicinal aspects of my field. I moved my practice to Duro, where there was a great need for mental health reform and a large population that needed care. A few years ago I moved here to Coruscant, where I’ve been specializing in trauma and abuse ever since. I’ve had many patients who were victims of torture, abuse, grooming, and I’m happy to be able to help people who have been through such awful things.”

He made a face. “You’re happy to hear people talk about how terrible their lives are?”

“I’m happy,” she said, “To be able to give people their sense of self back after part of it was taken away.”

Anakin looked at the floor, and muttered, “What if they never had it to begin with?”

Oh, Force. Didn’t he say he _wasn’t_ going to talk about his feelings? What was becoming of him?

“On that note,” she said, and he felt somehow as if he were being _seen_ , though not the way it was with Yoda or Obi-Wan. “Would you tell me a little about yourself?”

He thought. “Well…I’m from Tatooine.”

He was content to leave it at that, but she of course had to nod for him to continue. Well, what was he supposed to say? _My father is the Force, my mother was kidnapped and tortured, I slaughtered her captors like farm animals, just like I almost slaughtered the Jedi upon the command of a Sith Lord who I was a few hours away from calling Master and whose face is plastered on every screen on Coruscant and I can’t get away from him no matter how I try and now this lady is trying to get me to talk about it —_

“And I was a Jedi, for a while.”

She nodded again, gesturing with her hand just a smidgeon.

“I’m married to Padmé Amidala.” Ooh, it was nice to be able to say that finally _._

“Okay,” she said, interested. “How’s your marriage?”

He shrugged. “We’ve been arguing a lot since the twins came a few weeks ago, but we had a long talk the other day and it’s been better.”

“How long have you been together?”

This was all confidential, right? “Almost four years. We had to keep it a secret until recently because we’d both lose our jobs if we didn’t.”

“I imagine that was stressful.”

Another shrug. “It was easier to hide since I was always off fighting.”

“And you said you have two newborns. How old are they?”

Anakin couldn’t suppress a sloppy grin. “Uh — five weeks, now? Six? Their names are Luke and Leia and they’re perfect in every way.” Suddenly, he yawned. “I just wish they’d sleep more.”

“What else about yourself?” she asked, laughing. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“I like building droids,” he said. “I’m a good mechanic. I like flying. I like working out.”

“That’s good,” she said. “Exercise is known to improve mental health.”

“I haven’t really had the energy lately.”

“Understandable,” Druyan said. “I don’t have children myself, but I’ve babysat my sister’s. They are a handful.”

“Two handfuls,” he said, and they shared another little laugh. 

She looked his questionnaire again for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face, before glancing back at him. “I know your situation at home may be tight, what with your newborns and all, but I’d think I’d like to have you in here twice a week if you think that’s possible.”

Anakin felt his face scrunch up. “Don’t you think that’s overkill?”

“Not at all,” she said. “With the added stress of the the trial, and it being shown all over the holonet, and I think especially _because_ you have your newborns and family, it would be really effective if we could get a head start on all of this now.”

But he didn’t _wanna_ — “I’m sure you have other patients that need it more.”

Dr. Druyan just smiled knowingly at him. “Anakin, your struggles are important, too. Your feelings are valid. Your experiences matter.”

He wanted so badly to say no. No, no, no, he didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to sit here for an hour two days a week. He didn’t want to, ugh ugh uuuugh —

But, Padmé would want him to. Obi-Wan would want him to. Ahsoka would thump him over the head and tell him to swallow his pride, which was pretty much the same thing as wanting him to. 

Palpatine _wouldn’t_ want him to, because he didn’t like Anakin sharing anything with anyone else but him. So, that was probably the best incentive to do it, he supposed.

“Is it —” Anakin started, really not sure if he should bring this up, even though he was actually _absolutely_ sure because that was kinda the whole reason he was here…. “Is it normal that I think about him all the time? Like, _all_ the time? Is it normal that I —”

No, no. Nah. Nope.

“That you what?”

Noooooo — “That I miss him.”

He hated himself _so_ so so so so so kriffing _badly_ , what the hell was _wrong_ with him for even saying that out loud, for even entertaining the thought, she was going to kick him out because he was absolutely beyond helping, really, at this point —

“That’s very normal,” Dr. Druyan said, nodding. “It’s a staple of abusive relationships. 

But — “It wasn’t like _that_ though….” He trailed off into a shudder.

“Abusive relationships can take many forms,” she said. “It could be someone’s employer, a friend, a parent, a sibling, a spouse. It’s the same with grooming.”

His mouth twisted in a contorted frown. “But did the Jedi tell you what he was allegedly grooming me for?”

“They essentially said that he was trying to get you to do his bidding,” Dr. Druyan said. “I know there are some Force aspects of it, and I’m not extremely familiar with the Force, although I have been doing a little reading out of interest ever since they contacted me. But even without that knowledge, grooming manifests in many different ways. Grooming someone to be a drug mule, for example, very common with children in the spice colonies.”

“Well,” Anakin said, suddenly with a white-hot anger and a cold disgust for himself, “He wasn’t grooming me for drug trading, he was grooming me for _murder_. And I fell for it!”

So let him _go_ , send him away, he was beyond help, could he go home now and stop _thinking_ about this, pretty please —

“Anakin,” she said patiently, “I won’t deny that your situation is unique, but you are not alone. Your struggles don’t exist in a vacuum. There are other people out there who _have_ faced similar things as you. There is precedent for all of this. There is _help_.”

“Well then,” he said, sulking back in his chair, “Go _help_ some of them.”

“I am,” she said, “ _And_ I’m going to try helping you. You deserve it as much as any of them.”

He just shook his head and looked out the window.

“Think of it like this,” she said. “You were a Jedi, so I know you’re a compassionate person. Your eyes lit up when you described your family, so I know there is great love in your heart. So if I were to tell you about — just making up an example here, a child on Ord Mantell who was taken by the Black Sun and forced to lie, cheat, and kill for them under threat of torture. And that child did what they said, and then grew into a teen that did what they said, and then an adult who was still doing what they said. Do you blame that man for the circumstances he finds himself in?”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly. Now say there’s — I don’t know, a little girl on Takodana who finds her uncle sneaking into her room at night, whispering that if she tells anyone about what he does to her, he’ll kill her mother. So she puts up with it for years, because he’s twice her size and five times her strength. Is it that little girl’s fault that she puts up with it, and doesn’t tell anyone?”

“I’m not a little kid, though. It’s not the same.”

“But you were,” she said. “And even if this hadn’t started when you were young, abusers are masters of gaining control. They pinpoint your weak spots and exploit them. Do you have anything in common — and you don’t have to specify, just say yes or no — with the two examples I just gave you?” He nodded dully. “Right. All grooming is, is someone who gains your trust by poking at your weak spots and using them to control you without you realizing. Their efforts are subtle, poisonous, and long term. Their goals could be anything. Sex, crime, drug trading, money — and yes, even murder.”

Anakin stared at the floor. “I’m beyond helping, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve already done it,” he said, not looking up. “I killed someone because he told me to. I was _this_ close to doing the same thing with —”

No. He didn’t know her well enough to say that.

She gave him a moment, and then said, “I don’t believe anyone is beyond helping. I believe everyone deserves a chance, and I don’t think anyone should be looked down upon because of their circumstances.”

“I’ve _killed_ people, though!” he said, gesturing with his hands, leaning closer to her. “I’m a _murderer!_ Why would _anyone_ want to help me? No one _cares!_ ”

“I do.”

“It’s your job to!”

“I made it my job because I wanted to help people,” Druyan said, and her smile just made him even more frustrated. “Because I care about helping people. Aren’t you the same? Didn’t you say you _chose_ to be a Jedi, who are known throughout the galaxy as being compassionate keepers of the peace?”

That was, admittedly, a good point. She continued, “When the Jedi called me to set up your appointment, it was very clear that they care about you. You have a wife, and friends that you mentioned, who clearly care very deeply about you. People _do_ care, Anakin.”

“Well then, why did no one ever notice?” he demanded, clenching the armrests of his chair with a tightened grip. “If the Jedi care so much why did they always act like they didn’t? Why did they let me _see_ him? Why didn’t they ever notice? Why did any of this happen to _me?_ You know they call me the Chosen One? What the hell does that _mean?_ And if they call me that why did they let a Sith Lord kriffing _groom_ me? Why —”

His face fell into his hands, and suddenly he never wanted to talk again. There were tears prickling at his eyes, but this woman would not see him cry. Not today.

“See what I mean?” he heard her say, sounding horribly sympathetic. “It gets worse before it gets better.”

And this was only the _first_ session.

Ugh.

Death would be less painful than _this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she's named after Carl Sagan and Ann Druyan lol no reason I'm just a fan
> 
> and also because Anakin's therapist in Asylum was named after a Carl Sagan book which was named after a part of the brain which was named after some dude. at least I didn't name her after a Neopet this time
> 
> p.s. I'm happy to state I have officially finished the first draft of this story. I amend my previous statement to say there will be 19 chapters. I hope you are as excited as I am to share it <3


	8. savages

The trial was about a week away when Obi-Wan met the Loyalists at Padmé’s apartment to consolidate what both parties knew. Padmé had asked him in private — meaning, away from Anakin — if he would help their cause and he’d readily agreed, taking her queries to the Jedi Council and seeing what sort of an alliance they could form in private. Now he was back, and for some reason Padmé couldn’t help but think of how glad she was this meeting was overlapping with Anakin going to therapy. Their talk had definitely been a strong first step at improving their relationship, but he still had a lot going on and for now, Padmé wanted to keep both worlds separate. It was easier that way.

She sat opposite Obi-Wan on the yellow couches in her living space, observing silently as he answered various questions by her peers, patiently and with that same sage-like wisdom that seemed to emanate from all Jedi. 

Except, well. Padmé’s husband. Anakin was wise in his own way, but he was _definitely_ no sage.

Thank the gods for that, honestly. Sages weren’t her type.

“What is Palpatine’s security situation currently?” Fang Zar was asking Obi-Wan then.

“He’s being securely held deep within the temple,” Obi-Wan said. “We’re watching him at all times of the day through security monitors, but we aren’t allowed any contact with him, nor any audio from within his cell as per the court’s orders.” He made a skeptical face. “To protect the Chancellor’s privacy, of course.”

“And how will security be handled during the trial?”

“That is a concern of ours as well,” Obi-Wan replied. “I cannot reveal everything, you understand, but I assure you we are taking measures to prevent escape or rescue plans.”

“You think realistically he would try?” Bana asked.

Obi-Wan glanced at Padmé and said, “As I know Senator Amidala has mentioned, Palpatine has immensely strong Force powers. We are in no way allowed to interfere with his abilities, and so this plus his many allies and potential co-conspirators makes it a very dangerous situation. We will have Jedi and clones stationed at all exits, and the majority of the Jedi Council will be in attendance during the trial. That’s all I’m allowed to say.”

“And in the event that he fails to be convicted,” Mon said, “Do the Jedi have a backup plan?”

Obi-Wan pulled his robes closer around him. “We are considering our options.”

Padmé had to suppress a smile. The cryptic Jedi Master. She was used to it by now, but she knew it could be infuriating to those who weren’t.

“There is some talk among us,” Bail said in a low voice, making eye contact with everyone and waiting until he received nods of approval to continue, “Of an organization being formed. An opposition in the event that…something happens.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “I believe I understand.” He raised his hand to his beard, deep in thought. “Do you have support?”

“Chandrila, Alderaan,” Mon listed. “Mon Cala, and it’s military. Dantooine, Malastare, and Ryloth are sympathetic, and we have potential allies Confederate systems if we can manage to make contact. Onderon is one possibility.”

“We would value your opinion,” Bail said. “As the only one among us with military experience.”

Obi-Wan was still nodding contemplatively. “It is dangerous,” he said slowly. “Alderaan has no military, Chandrila’s is limited. Ryloth is still healing from early in the war. Mon Cala will be helpful, but it is only one against the entire clone army if the worst does come.”

“Is there no way to gain support inside the military?” asked Giddean Danu.

“Palpatine took control over the army with his most recent amendment to the Constitution. If he is acquitted, he will attempt to regain total control over the entire military. It’s too risky to ask for support openly.”

Meena Tillis said, “But practically speaking, the Jedi are in command right now. They are the ones with experience leading the clones. Have you no sway upon them?”

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat. “The clones are an immensely loyal group of people bred to serve the Republic. However, they are still individuals who are very good at making decisions for themselves. I’m certain some of them _would_ rally to your cause, but I would not hold out faith that widespread aid would come your way. It is much more likely that Palpatine would order them to squash your — organization, and most clones would obey.”

“So is there no hope?” Chi Eekway asked him.

“All I am saying,” Obi-Wan replied, “Is that in your current state, it will not be enough.”

“I agree,” Bail said. “We may be in this for the long haul, my friends. A fight seen only in the shadows. It _will_ seem like a losing battle.”

Obi-Wan looked around at them for a moment, then leaned in slightly, frowning. “If you were to ask me personally — I fear that if we continue a falsely democratic process like the one we’re in now, we will lose. And I, _personally_ , recommend that you go ahead with your organization. Rally what help you can. But keep it quiet. I will tell the Jedi Council if you wish, and I’m certain they will not try to stop you, but I do not believe we would be able to aid you in our current state.”

“Even now?” Mon said. “Even in our most desperate hour?”

“I cannot speak for them, of course,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “And I agree with the Council in many ways, and I have the utmost respect for them. But all I mean is…they do not always, at all times, set their priorities right.”

“What about you?” Padmé said, finally speaking up.

Obi-Wan stared at her. “What about me?”

“If the worst case scenario comes to pass,” Padmé said quietly, looking into his eyes. “If democracy dies and everything we’ve fought for was wasted…if our efforts in the Senate fail and we must do the unthinkable: will you help us?”

He blinked, and she watched as he steeled his jaw. “To oppose Palpatine’s authoritarian rule?” he said as if to himself, and eventually came to nod. “If the worst does come, yes, I will help you.”

“It would be most appreciated,” Bail cut in. “Are there any Jedi who might follow?”

“Ahsoka, for one,” Padmé offered.

“Agreed,” Obi-Wan said. “I can try to find some others as well.”

“And General Skywalker?” Mon asked. 

Padmé and Obi-Wan exchanged a long look. She could tell he was thinking the same thing that she was — that they would really rather it not come to that. But Padmé said, “If it comes down to it, I’m certain he will.”

Mon nodded. “Very well. Proceed, Master Jedi, and be cautious.”

“Agreed,” Obi-Wan said again. “And all of you as well.”

They called their meeting to a close. Padmé shared some parting words with her friends and then removed herself with Obi-Wan off to her private chambers, in the direction of the kitchen. To her surprise, Anakin was there. He must have just returned, and he looked about as miserable as he usually did, these days, when he turned to look them over.

He glanced between Obi-Wan and her, rubbing at his eyes blearily as he held a cup of caf loosely in his mechanical hand. “So are you part of their little rebellion now, Master?”

Oh, not this again. “Anakin,” Padmé started, but then he surprised her by waving it off with almost a smile.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “Sorry. Too tired to joke, I guess.”

“Therapy’s going well, then?” Obi-Wan said with humor in his voice. “I haven’t heard you crack a joke since the _Invisible Hand_.”

“That was pretty fun,” Anakin admitted with a shadow of a grin, not quite there but not quite not. “Really, though. Are you joining them?”

Padmé felt Obi-Wan’s eyes on her, and she interjected. “I don’t want it to have to come to that,” she said. “I for one still haven’t given up on democracy. But as a last ditch effort…yes, he’s pledged his support.” She paused, the end of the meeting echoing in her head. She might as well.… “But if the worst does come, goddesses forbid…we could use yours as well.”

He looked between the two of them for a long moment, frowning. “You don’t want my help.”

“And why not?” Obi-Wan said.

“I would just make it worse,” Anakin said, and in a blink suddenly he looked absolutely hopeless. “Just like I almost did.”

“Anakin—”

“No,” said Anakin, waving it off again. “You know it’s true. I was supposed to be the one _opposing_ your rebellion. I don’t want anything to do with it. Do whatever you have to, but just — leave me out of it.”

Before they could stop him, he turned away from them and left the room.

Padmé looked up at Obi-Wan. “At least he’s actually talking about it now.”

Obi-Wan nodded distantly, rubbing his beard. “I really should have pushed him for therapy a long time ago.”

“Oh, stop that,” Padmé said, not quite snapping. “Should have this, should have that. Stop before you start sounding like him.”

He chuckled, and moved over to pour himself some caf. “No, one of him is already more than I can handle, sometimes.”

“I do still believe in the political process, you know,” she said, staring off in the direction Anakin had left. “But even I have to admit it looks bleak. I’ve never exactly been a pacifist, but…I didn’t want it to come to this.”

After a very long pause, where he took a sip of his drink and stared down at it, he murmured, “It might not have to.”

“What?” Padmé said. “Does the Council have a plan after all?”

“Not the Council,” Obi-Wan said vaguely. She looked at him inquisitively, but he just shook his head. “Oh, don’t mind me. Just an old man rambling.”

“Obi-Wan, you’re thirty-nine.”

“Yes, but I’m graying now.”

She laughed, and threw her hands up in concession. “Fair enough. You’re ancient.”

It was a nice, but brief moment with smiles on their faces, one of those tiny pinpricks of light in the darkest of situations. After a short time, that briefest of moments concluded with him sobering and looking at her grimly. “Padmé,” Obi-Wan said, “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“I know how hard it is for you to be working, what with the twins,” he said seriously. “But keep doing it. Work as hard as you can. I will too. We need to take this man _down_ , and like you I would prefer to do it the right way.”

There was a passion in his words the likes of which she had never heard from him. It was…nice, somehow. Refreshing. She said, “That’s all I want. To take Palpatine out and to keep him—” she pointed off in Anakin’s general direction “—safe. I _will_ die for this cause.”

“So would I,” Obi-Wan pledged. “And I would prefer for Anakin not to be involved, as he wishes.”

“Agreed,” Padmé said. “This is our fight now.”

“And I will do anything to make sure we prevail,” Obi-Wan said. “Anything.”

“Anything,” she promised. “Anything for him.”

There was something unspoken here, and she couldn’t quite put it into words…but maybe it was best if they indeed left it like that, for now.

* * *

The 501st arrived in the Mustafar system the same day that the trial was due to start. Ahsoka had been here before with Anakin years ago, on an intense mission to save some kidnapped Force-sensitive younglings from Cad Bane. She didn’t think they had ever discovered just _why_ the bounty hunter had done that, and who had been paying him to, but at the end of the day they’d succeeded in saving the children. She remembered the younglings had been returned to their parents with the Jedi arranging a relocation to protect them from a second attack, and that had essentially been that. Strange, suspicious, but ultimately just another terrible mission in an apprenticeship full of terrible missions.

Now, of course, she returned to this miserable lava planet alone, a fully fledged Jedi Knight absent of her master’s companionship. It still felt so weird.

She’d known from the start that when — if — she returned to the Order, it would have likely resulted in her being knighted. _This was your great trial_ , Master Windu had said that evening, after Barriss’s deception had been revealed and Ahsoka had been let go. Yeah. Sure it had been. Right. But she guessed that was normal for her lineage — Obi-Wan and Anakin had been knighted after informal trials as well. She was living up to their standards, she supposed.

Now. Mustafar. She stood on the bridge with Admiral Yularen as the fleet approached the hellish planet, listening to the reports of the scans — no Separatist presence in space, or in the atmosphere. No Trade Federation ships, no dreadnoughts or battlecruisers, nothing. No indication that anyone was staking out here at all.

But they had to check. She went down to the hangar with Rex to board the gunships, escorted by a dozen or so individual fighters just in case, although scans of the surface came up similarly short. But this wasn’t just any other mission — this was a sweep to find the members of the Separatist Council themselves. If they were here then militant presence would be as well, perhaps hidden on the far side of the planet, undetectable by their scanners. Best to be careful.

As they entered the lower atmosphere, the gunship side latches opened to give them a view of the planet, and Ahsoka immediately coughed out a few lungfuls of ashy, sulfurous air. Red light and intense heat filled the gunship immediately, swelteringly hot even at this altitude, and all she could think was: _Why would anyone build a secret base here?_

Their approach was slow as the scanners swept over the surface looking for anything that might point them in the direction of the Separatists, and Ahsoka took the time to comm Admiral Yularen.

“Any updates, Admiral?”

The tiny figure of him atop her wrist comm said, _“There does not appear to be any presence in the atmosphere, but we’ve located two mining facilities that appear to be a headquarters of some kind.”_

Ahsoka nodded. “Send us their coordinates, we’ll check ‘em out.”

The first facility appeared to be a dud, but a contingency of clones and a few gunships lingered back to finish the sweep as Ahsoka and Rex flew off to inspect the second. After a few minutes the clone pilot indicated they were approaching the target, and then suddenly—

“Red alert!” the pilot shouted, punching the emergency beacon.

Ahsoka tried to peer out the viewports. “What’s going on?”

“Enemy ships, sir! Coming from the mining complex!”

She punched a key on her comm. “Admiral! Set the fighters in position and get ready to stop the ships trying to escape the system!” Then she looked at the men. “Get ready!”

The gunship swooped down near a landing platform and the sides opened fully. Before it was close enough for the clones to jump out, Ahsoka leapt from the transport, lightsabers blaring before she hit the ground in a roll. B1 droids began to swarm out of the base, and as she deflected their bolts and cut through them with her blades, all Ahsoka could think was how much easier this was than fighting militant Mandalorians. This was more like the good old days.

She did not stop moving and neither did her sabers, but she was conscious of the clones jumping off the ship behind her, the enemy transports flying out of a hangar built into the mountain, the heat all around her and the constant blare of red light wherever she looked—

“Admiral!” she called into her comm. “Get ready the tractor beam! Don’t let any of those ships escape!”

_“We have formed a blockade, General,”_ Yularen’s voice said. _“They won’t get through on my watch.”_

Good, Ahsoka thought. Time to do what she did best, then:

Fighting. It was all she really seemed to know how to do, anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewatched the episode where Ahsoka and Anakin go to Mustafar and there’s a scene where the two go to talk with Palpatine, who says hi Anakin :) then glares at Ahsoka and says “excuse us” and takes Anakin into his office alone and I’M SORRY BUT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sometimes the line blurs between fannish interpretation and actual canon but damn!!! Palpatine really is a straight predator isn’t he!! Ahsoka go tell an adult!!!! 🤢


	9. power...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer time! I couldn’t find anything on how a Palpatine trial would have actually gone if somehow a situation like this had actually happened. But as I’ve said, the whole political structure of the Republic is clearly inspired by the good ol’ U S of A, baby, and ofc we have lines like “the Senate will decide your fate” and “I am the Senate” which both seem pretty realistic in terms of US politics…long story short, I ended up basing the trial loosely on the recent impeachment trials, all the info I could find on wookieepedia, and of course a courtroom drama because I know nothing about the law lol. Because of how terribly futile a trial like this would have been given Palpatine’s authoritarian control at this stage of the war, I inevitably ended up writing about how salty I am re: the state my country is in and I regret none of it lmao. But I still really wanted to explore this situation so here we go.
> 
> 1 more thing: per wookieepedia there’s a theory that Tarkin may have been made Grand Moff as early as ROTS based on info from the tragically deleted Padmé scenes, so I went with that because we love (to hate) Tarkin in this house

The battle on Mustafar didn’t last too long.

Honestly, the ease of the whole thing had actually been a pretty big surprise, if a pleasant one. Ahsoka — and the Council, she thought — had expected the Seppies to have fled by now, frightened away by the deaths of Grievous and Dooku, and the capture of their chief leader Darth Sidious.

But they hadn’t fled. They’d been here the whole time, and the 501st hadn’t managed to capture the _entire_ list of Separatist Leaders that Ahsoka had been given, but they did manage to snag a few of the big ticket items. Wat Tambor, San Hill of the Banking Clan, and Shu Mai of the Commerce Guild were all in custody. Poggle the Lesser had escaped again, but they had who they really needed, who had slipped in and out of Republic clutches time and time again for most of Ahsoka’s life: Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation. Neimoidian who had tried to kill Padmé like, at least five times. Verified and confirmed collaborator with three separate Sith Lords.

To be honest, Ahsoka hadn’t really been paying much attention to this whole trial thing. Yes, it was important, of course it was, and she wasn’t completely ignorant of it all. Obi-Wan and Padmé had been keeping her up to speed whenever they met. But she hadn’t been watching any of the depositions, hadn’t been pouring through the evidence herself. In that arena, there was little she could do. And watching the holonet news, seeing analysts and anchors discussing what they thought about Palpatine, the thought of whom filled Ahsoka with visceral disgust after having heard Anakin talk about their relationship — it wasn’t the most productive way she could be spending her time, was all. 

But now, this would help the cause. At least, Obi-Wan and Padmé said it would. And they knew a lot better than Ahsoka did.

She supposed, as she headed back to Coruscant with Gunray while a detachment remained on Mustafar to comb through any information left behind, it was in the Senate’s hands now. 

Now she could focus on other things, like a certain conspiracy that Rex had mentioned....

* * *

And so it had begun.

Nearly two months of tiresome, thankless work was about to culminate into an event that would either make or break the Republic. That would either save it, or see it crumble. That would either convict Palpatine of all the things he _had_ done wrong, or let him walk as a free man to go finish dismantling democracy once and for all.

Oh, and — he would also arrest or kill all of his dissenters if found not guilty, probably. That was a big thing to keep in mind.

Before Ahsoka had come to her that one night and revealed the truth about the Sith Master’s identity, Padmé had never thought it would come this far. She had known there was danger, and she knew Palpatine was working to gain authoritarian control…but she had never thought when rallying help and drafting their petition that it might actually end in bloodshed. If it wasn’t for everything that happened with Anakin, she still wouldn’t know any better. But now she did. Now she knew exactly the depths of this man’s treacherous evilness, including but not limited to sparking a war that would cost billions of lives, and preying on the sweetest little boy she had ever met. 

And now it was time to stop him.

Padmé had been doing everything she could. Talking with senators, talking with those who might have influence over other senators. Forming a potential rebellion in the shadows. Submitting a deposition to the trial attorneys that included absolutely everything she could say about how far back Palpatine’s deception and conspiracy went.

It was a long process that took place over a few days and culminated in her giving an on-camera reading of all her notes and statements. She talked about when the Trade Federation invaded her planet on the orders of Darth Sidious, and how he had sent his then-apprentice to make sure the job was done. She talked about fleeing from Naboo and coming to Coruscant, and how Palpatine had used her — and the situation that he had caused on their mutual homeworld — to get himself into office. How she had later been targeted by assassination attempts by Gunray, who was working for Dooku, who was working for Palpatine.

She talked about all of this, and then Tarkin assured her that half of it would be dismissed once the trial started.

Yes, Tarkin. _That_ Tarkin. The one who had accused Ahsoka of treason and had nearly gotten her convicted in a trial that, coincidentally enough (it wasn’t!), Palpatine had presided over.

Tarkin had been granted a new title, apparently. Grand Moff. The leader of Palpatine’s new band of thugs — ahem, governors. Enforcers of the system set in place by his most recent series of emergency powers. The organization whose function was basically to render the Senate obsolete. And if the Senate failed to convict, well. Then his little plan will have worked.

And it might be heading in that direction. Everything Padmé said in her deposition about Darth Sidious’s influence on the Trade Federation and Maul on Naboo thirteen years ago was claimed as inadmissible by Tarkin, as was anything that came from those lines of thought. Conjecture, he said. Unprovable extrapolation. There was no way, he said, to confirm that Palpatine was in any way involved in this conspiracy unless they could provide infallible evidence that Darth Sidious was the same man as Chancellor Palpatine, and that Palpatine and Nute Gunray had collaborated.

Great. Ahsoka was working on the Gunray situation, though, so maybe....

Padmé had been working closely with Obi-Wan, cross-referencing what he could tell her with what was going on in the Senate. The Loyalists were not working directly with the Jedi Council but there was some information passed between them. Obi-Wan told her about the legal team that the Jedi had formed, headed by a constitutional lawyer named Charr Kheli that had been working in the Republic court system for many years. All she knew was that the Jedi had grilled him extensively and found him to be a loyal Republic servant same as any of them, uncorrupted by greed as those in Palpatine’s government were. Obi-Wan said the lawyer had been extensively studying the historical background of the Sith and the ancient laws of the Republic from back when the Sith were a known presence in the galaxy, and understood the implications behind someone such as this being in charge of the Republic.

Meanwhile Padmé held interviews, press conferences, some of which made it onto the holonet and some of which did not. Because the main holonetworks had been taken over by the government (Palpatine’s government!) for military purposes. Because of course they had. But she did what she could, she informed the masses, she informed her peers, she talked to whomever she could talk to and spread the word as far as she was able. This man is evil, she said. This man does not care about the Republic, she said. If this man wins his trial then we will all be doomed, she said.

She got dismissals. Disapproving looks. She got people pulling her to the side, saying it was dangerous to speak out like this and she could be killed for it. That saying the things she was saying would put her life in danger. They said this, and every time she would calmly respond: The very fact that people were telling her that speaking out would get her killed simply proved that she needed to keep doing it. If they were trying to suppress her then she would simply have to be louder. If they tried to censor her then she would simply have to be more insistent. 

Padmé had meant what she had told Obi-Wan, and the Loyalists. She lived for this Republic, and she would die for it, too.

Not that she wanted to, of course, but she had known from day one that there was a chance. But at the end of the day, if the worst did come, she was emotionally prepared for it. If it happened, then it happened. It would be worth it either way.

Her only main concern (besides not seeing her children grow up, which was…less than ideal) was, well…that whenever her life was in danger her husband tended to go a little crazy. To put it mildly. But Anakin was getting better, and she would simply have to trust that he would not once again be tempted to go on a murderous rampage if somehow he thought it meant saving her life.

And at least Obi-Wan was keeping an eye on him. That really did set her mind at ease.

Finally the trial started. It was being held in a massive Republic facility similar to the one from Ahsoka’s trial. It was a Senate trial, rather than one in the Supreme Court like Nute Gunray had had, or a military one like Ahsoka’s, and all that meant was that the Chief Justice of that very Supreme Court would be the one presiding as judge.

Ahem. _Ahem._ The Chief Justice that _Palpatine_ had appointed to the position. Yeah. That one.

…This was going to be rough.

The stands of the room were filled with Senators and other representatives. The Jedi Council had their own private section close to the prosecuting team. Palpatine was here in person, and Padmé wasn’t sure whether it was the first time he’d been outside of the Jedi Temple since his arrest or not. There was a buzz in the air as the spectators and jurors (made up of the senators themselves) milled about and waited for the farce to begin.

Oh, did she say farce? She meant…completely unbiased and objective trial led by people who definitely did not have an agenda at all.

_Bail, Mon_ , she thought as she waited there. _Get ready. We might need a rebellion after all._

First came the opening statements. The Jedi’s chosen attorney went first, explaining to the senators their intentions to prove the Chancellor guilty of treason, collusion with Count Dooku, and conspiracy against the Republic. He went over the evidence they had (there wasn’t much, Padmé had to admit) and a summary of current testimonials that the Senate would be hearing, her own included. Opening statements were intended not to be argumentative, and as far as Padmé could tell he did an excellent job being objective and factual.

Tarkin went next, on behalf of Palpatine’s defense team, essentially saying that the Jedi had no useful evidence that Palpatine was in fact a Sith Lord, nothing linking him to collaboration with Count Dooku, and a lack of compelling testimonials that would prove their side infallibly. Padmé supposed all of that was true — from what Obi-Wan told her they had swept Palpatine’s offices, private residences, every place and every databank they could get their hands on and had found nothing at all. All things considered, it didn’t exactly surprise her. It did little to set her mind at ease, though.

The trial proceeded, and Padmé spent many long, tiresome days in and out of the courtroom, the Senate offices, contentious meetings, and then back to the courtroom for more. Expert witnesses were brought in. Testimonials and depositions were shown. Her own was ripped apart by Tarkin for the same reasons he’d given her when she’d documented it all — that there was nothing, he said, linking Chancellor Palpatine to the mysterious Darth Sidious that the Jedi claimed him to be.

What did that matter? she thought cynically. After everything Palpatine had done, all his power grabs over the years, his changes to the Constitution, how could anyone be swayed by this? But they were. Oh, they were. During the trial she saw in her periphery nods, heard murmurs of agreement and whispers of debate. Her peers ate up everything Tarkin said, and none of what was offered by the prosecution. At night, she would turn on the news and watch their analyses, trying to see what was happening from the public’s perspective, that she might know what they could do to improve. 

But the truth was, this was mostly out of her hands. Not nearly for the first time, she was starting to feel more and more like a helpless onlooker as democracy failed before her. Like when the Military Creation Act had gone through, like when the banks had been deregulated, she could do little more than what she had already done: give her perspective of it all, explain why their actions were heading in the wrong direction, and watch her words fall upon deaf ears.

It was so frustrating. It was so disheartening. And it was starting to make her think that maybe the rebellion really was what they needed. Maybe Bail and Mon’s instinct to call to arms was the correct one after all. Not that they had made the decision lightly themselves — on the contrary. Bail was from a pacifist world with no military. The last thing Mon could be described as was militant and violent. But if this was how the Republic was going to be — if this was how they _wanted_ to be — then maybe it really was time. Maybe it really was too late for politics. Maybe years of fighting for peace really had been futile all along.

Padmé wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She did, occasionally, but only in her office. That was fine — she could blame it her postpartum hormones. Or the failing Republic. What did it really matter, anymore?

…Ack! Was this what she had been reduced to? 

Was this what they had _all_ been reduced to? Was this what _Palpatine_ had reduced them to? Was this what she was becoming? Was this what was necessary in a galaxy so torn apart? Was this what her beloved Republic had become? And how much of it actually _was_ Palpatine’s fault? Did these people _want_ a dictator? Because they certainly acted like they did.

Yet another day in court. Today it was Mace Windu, who was responsible for the arrest, giving his account. He informed the onlookers of how he had been told of Palpatine’s status as Sith Lord by Anakin, and had then gone to apprehend the man with three other Jedi Masters, who had each in turn been murdered by Palpatine’s lightsaber. He explained, with prompting from the prosecutor, why being a Sith Lord was relevant. What the implications were behind it. He explained Palpatine’s relation to Dooku, and the Confederacy, and Grievous, as far as the Jedi were aware of the connections.

He also explained that the dark side of the Force was extremely strong in Palpatine, but as Padmé expected that was immediately ruled as inadmissible and the trial continued as if it hadn’t been mentioned. Something about how the senators could not feel the Force, and neither could the court justice or the attorneys, so there was no way to prove it was true or even slightly relevant to their case.

_Great._

Then it was Tarkin’s turn to cross-examine. It went on for a little while — Tarkin dismissed Windu’s referral of Darth Maul the way he had dismissed Padmé’s account of the same Sith: on the grounds that since Maul refused to testify, there was nothing linking him specifically to Palpatine himself, as they had not yet determined that Palpatine and Sidious _were_ in fact the same person. Tarkin went on, picking apart Windu’s claims that Palpatine had been working with Dooku, and the lack of proven communiques between the two men. And then:

“Master Windu,” Tarkin said, “Is it illegal to own a lightsaber if one is not a member of the Jedi Order?”

“No,” Windu replied coolly.

“What about being able to use the Force? Is it illegal for a non-Jedi to practice using the Force, if they have the ability to do so?”

“No, it is not.”

Tarkin stalked back and forth, hands held primly behind his back, nose pointed slightly skyward with an air of conceited authority. “No, it is not,” he repeated. “And is it illegal to consider oneself a Sith Lord?”

“It is what the Sith have done that is illegal.”

“The answer to my question, Master Jedi, is no,” Tarkin said. “It is not illegal to be a Sith Lord, although there was one point in Republic history when it was. As I recall, the Anti-Sith Bill was deemed unconstitutional approximately three thousand years ago, as it interfered with the freedom of religion across the galaxy.”

“As I have explained to the court,” Windu said patiently, “It is the actions performed by the Sith that are the true crime. Chancellor Palpatine directly collaborated with Count Dooku, Nute Gunray, General Grievous—”

“So you insist, and yet I have seen no evidence proving that Chancellor Palpatine _is_ in fact the Sith that you claim him to be. Without that connection, your arguments are entirely unsubstantiated.”

“He murdered three Jedi Masters with the Force and a lightsaber during his arrest,” Windu said, his voice expressionless, giving away nothing. “He confessed to being a Sith Lord to Jedi General Anakin Skywalker. He knew the location of General Grievous and the Separatist Council without revealing his source. Chancellor Palpatine _is_ none other than the Sith Lord Darth Sidious. This is a fact.”

“It is not,” Tarkin said condescendingly. “Not if you can’t prove it.” He turned to address the senators. “The only thing I see from the deaths of your three Jedi Masters is that the Chancellor was trying to defend himself. If owning a lightsaber is not illegal, and using the Force is not illegal, then neither was it illegal for the Chancellor to defend his own life.”

“The Sith Order has a commitment to amassing power for themselves. Chancellor Palpatine has been gaining power for himself, and has remained in office past the expiration of his terms, because he intends on continuing to gain power and using it to control the galaxy. That is why he worked with Count Dooku to start the Clone War.”

“Your Honor, I would like that stricken from the record on the grounds of speculation.” The Chief Justice nodded in approval. Tarkin continued, “Master Jedi, The Chancellor has done nothing that was not within his legal rights, as granted to him by the Senate in a time of war.”

“That war is now over,” Windu said coolly. “As I recall, Chancellor Palpatine vowed to return his emergency powers as soon as the Clone War reached its end. When he refused to do so, the Jedi Order was forced to take action in order to preserve democracy.”

“The Jedi Order performed an illegal arrest,” Tarkin said, looking around at the audience. “Every action performed by the Chancellor was a legal action, intended for the betterment of the Republic, and a secure society that could not be broken by the actions of the Separatist movement.” He looked at Windu. “No further questions.”

Padmé’s head fell into her hand. 

This was a losing fight. The only thing she thought might turn it around was Gunray, and that… _that_ was a long shot. But they would find out soon enough, she supposed....

* * *

Anakin was pretty sure that by this point, he owed part of his soul to Jobal Naberrie. 

She didn’t have to be doing this. Neither he nor Padmé had explicitly asked her to stay with them this long, but she seemed genuinely happy — honestly, thrilled — to be doing it. Maybe that was normal for grandparents. Anakin didn’t know, because he didn’t have any. Well, maybe he did, but they were probably slaves somewhere in the Outer Rim. Point was, as far as he was concerned Jobal was as much of an angel as her youngest daughter, and _that_ was saying something.

(By the way, he’d seen the angels of Iego, finally, and they hadn’t compared to the radiance that was Padmé Amidala. So _there._ )

Anyway, he’d been having lunch with Jobal while Padmé was off at the thing that Anakin was very much trying not to think about, the thing that was on the holonet all the time, and it was really just…pleasant. It wasn’t exactly like having a mom again, but it was honestly pretty close. It was like a bacta patch on the ever-bleeding wound that was his loss of Shmi. Jobal was a lot like her: brown hair and eyes, yes, but also exceedingly kind, patient, open-minded. So at the end of the day, while it wasn’t the same thing, it was still…family. Just, a different one. He’d been welcomed with open arms into their family, and honestly he still kinda couldn’t believe it, the way he couldn’t believe a lot of things. 

He wouldn’t exactly say that therapy was helping, yet. But he could kinda, sort of see that it might lead there, at some point. It had only been a handful of sessions now, and it still made him a little nervous, but he liked Dr. Druyan well enough. She was another for the list of exceedingly kind, patient women in his life. Not to say that he wasn’t _used_ to that — most of the Jedi were exceedingly kind and patient, after all. So it was…comfortable. And it was getting a little less nerve-wracking by the session.

Life was a little…not great, still, though. Being away from war was completely jarring, and he still couldn’t get used to just how _quiet_ Coruscant was. The time he’d spent here since the Battle of Coruscant was barely a fraction of the time he’d spent at war…and he missed Rex, missed the 501st, but at least they were in Ahsoka’s hands, now. He didn’t _have_ to worry that much, even though obviously he still did.

So…yeah. Life was…uh…life. Not great, but could be worse, but could also be a lot better. Maybe it was going to be. Maybe. If Padmé and Obi-Wan’s work panned out, and the Senate actually decided something for once.

Unlikely, if you asked him, but. Not his problem anymore, right? Right? Please say he was right?

After lunch, he took care of the twins’ needs, swaddled them up and put them down for a nap — Jobal said that having a consistent schedule was key to retaining his and Padmé’s sanity — then he yawned hugely and figured that dad needed a nap, too, so he collapsed on the bed and his eyelids grew immensely heavy....

His mind began to drift off, swept away by fatigue, hoping to dream about Padmé on Naboo, frolicking in the field of wildflowers, curls cascading over her shoulders like the waterfalls off in the distance....

She was there…it didn’t look like Naboo but she was there, and she looked…lost? Frightened. She was frightened to her core, and he realized after a moment that she was calling out for him, but he couldn’t hear her voice. She was begging, begging for him to help, but help with what? The twins? Where were — where _were_ they, Luke and Leia? Leia, Luke — where _are_ you—

They started crying, but he couldn’t find them. The sound of it was foreign, gut-wrenching. It wasn’t like any cries he’d ever heard. It pierced him straight through his heart, and he didn’t think he’d ever been so afraid. But he couldn’t find them — but he had to, because something was going to happen — something was looming over them, the same feeling that loomed over every battlefield he’d ever been on, that same suffocating veil of death, he didn’t know what was going to happen but he had to stop it, he had to or they were going to die, no no no no no—

Please no, let him help, please just grant him the ability to help for _once in his life_ —

His eyes snapped open. He sat up. Anakin didn’t know in that moment where he was, but it came to him quickly — the bassinet nearby, the blinds half-open on the windows, the Coruscant sun outside—

Oh. Yes. He knew.

Oh. Oh, wait, no. No, no, no.

Nightmares were normal for him, all things considered, but this wasn’t a nightmare. This was — this came from the Force. This was a message for him, and only for him. This was another one of those. Another one of _those_.

No…

_No…_

He dropped his head in his hands, heaving giant, repeated breaths, suddenly aware of the sweat drenching his clothes. Then he looked up, still breathing raggedly, and he reached out. Reached out with all his senses, feeling the pure essences of his babies, alive and well…then further, across the permacrete plains of the Senate District he felt for her, a beacon of light poking out among all the haze of corruption and darkness around her as she went about her day, ignorant of what he had seen and what he had felt—

She was safe. He could feel it. Safe for now, as were the twins. It was okay. They were all okay.

But…they might not be for long.

Not if it came true this time.

It hadn’t the last time, when he’d almost done what he’d almost done, but it _had_ the time before that.

Anakin’s eyes stung, and he let the tears fall without trying to stop them. Any shred of contentedness at the current state of his life shed from him like a bird molted its feathers.

It had felt…so _real...._

Please, he thought out into the Force, if it had any love for him left at all. Please, not this again, not now…not again....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in loving memory of Carrie Fisher who ~~drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra~~ died on my 22nd birthday thus spiritually connecting me to her for all time, and who was also game-changing advocate for mental health awareness and helped me understand my own negative feelings better 
> 
> 〰️📧 ♏️ℹ️💲💲 ✌🏻🍩⛎


	10. state of dreaming

All that work, all that waiting, all that effort on Ahsoka’s part, and Nute Gunray’s testimony ended up being little more than a dud.

All he’d essentially said from the stand was that he’d worked with Darth Sidious before, but had never met Chancellor Palpatine in his life, and that his only communication with Sidious had been over holograms. Apparently, even after decades in and out of prisons and Supreme Court trials, even after being one of Dooku’s chief lackeys, _that_ was all Gunray knew. Or at least, all he knew that was relevant as far as the Senate and Palpatine’s defense team cared.

It was unbelievable. It was so…so _frustrating_ that Obi-Wan could barely contain himself. Well, inwardly, that was. Outwardly he was as stone-faced as the rest of the Council. But inside, he was teetering dangerously on the edge of outright _fury,_ unfathomable rage and a dangerous, unpleasant urging in his gut to engage in an act of uncomplicated vengeance the likes of which would disgrace the Jedi Order and would make Qui-Gon Jinn roll around in his ash pile of a grave.

This was going _nowhere_. This blasted trial. It was going nowhere, and it would go nowhere. Obi-Wan hadn’t exactly had the best faith in the long-corrupted Senate from the start, but the damned thing was getting worse by the day.

Now, truth be told, Obi-Wan had thought until now that he’d been doing quite well handling his impulsive, homicidal urges. His urges to murder Palpatine in cold blood. He had thus far dismissed all his little fantasies, breathed his flawed desires out. They were absolutely _wrong_ , they were inappropriate, unhealthy, unhelpful. He needed to stop having them. He needed to do better. He needed to regain control and never let it go again.

At least, that was what he thought until Anakin called him.

It was the recess of court after Gunray’s testimony. The Council members were quietly discussing strategy with the lead prosecutor, Kheli, when Obi-Wan got the comm, and when he saw who it was he excused himself to the empty hall outside to answer.

And when he did, he could barely make out a word that Anakin was saying, for that was how hysterical his friend sounded. For a long, horrifying moment Obi-Wan thought it was something to do with the twins, but when he managed to calm Anakin down enough to confirm that they were fine, Obi-Wan gathered that this would probably be easier in person so he said, “Anakin, all right, hold on. Do you want me to come over there?”

_“Yes! Please Master I don’t know what to do—”_

“I’m coming, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, taking a regretful glance behind him, conscious of the duty he’d sworn to the Council and the Order. It would be irresponsible and wrong of him to leave now, when the wisdom and strength of the Council needed to be as fortified and united as it could be....

_…But_ he’d likewise sworn another oath, one to Anakin, that he would do anything for his friend after all he had failed to do before. That he would atone for his negligent ignorance of the abuse his Padawan had endured. And now, when Anakin needed him, Obi-Wan knew which oath was more important to him, and more pressing. And it wasn’t the one to the Council.

When he got back to Padmé’s apartment, breaking as many traffic laws as would make his former apprentice proud, Anakin practically collapsed into his arms, relief and dread emanating from him.

“It’s happening again,” his friend was practically wailing. “It’s happening again, and I don’t know what to do but I can’t go through it again even though I know it’s not real because it wasn’t before but what if it is _now_ and something happens to them—”

“Anakin — _Anakin_ —” Obi-Wan said, trying to get his attention, and Anakin looked up at him, lower lip quivering. “You mean you had another vision?”

“I can’t handle it,” Anakin whimpered, holding onto him like a lifeline, “I can’t go through it again....”

“This time, you are not alone,” Obi-Wan said, leading him over to sit down, rubbing his friend’s back in comforting patterns. “We’ll figure this out together, all right? Now, tell me what you saw.”

It wasn’t anything that put together a coherent story, Anakin said, just images, feelings, and the ever looming presence of death lingering over it all. He wasn’t sure whose death — Luke’s, Leia’s, Padmé’s, all of them perhaps — or how, or where, or when, but that it wasn’t just a dream, that it felt just like the last ones, that it felt real and tangible in all the ways his visions always had.

Obi-Wan had never had visions himself, at least not the way Anakin always had. He could see the future in the way all Jedi could, the way that granted them such excellent reflexes, but sensing an oncoming explosion or an incoming blaster bolt was usually the farthest that Obi-Wan’s foresight extended. 

Anakin, though. Anakin had _always_ had visions, which was what made these worst of times so difficult to manage. As his Jedi master, Obi-Wan hadn’t realized for the longest time that that’s what they’d been — not until Anakin’s mother had died, in fact. Anakin hadn’t known that was what they were, either, by his own admittance. But he’d always had them — flashes of things that would happen later in their missions together, that sometimes would come true and sometimes wouldn’t. Obi-Wan had always pegged it on his friend’s exponentially strong sensitivity to the Force, manifesting itself in sleep as a very vivid imagination and very realistic dreams…until, of course, Anakin had lost his mother, proving beyond a doubt that he had at least _some_ degree of genuine foresight, and that revelation had given a lot of clarity to much that had happened in retrospect.

But that was just it. They had come true before, yes, and apparently the source of them had been Shmi Skywalker’s yearning to see Anakin again before she died. But the second round of visions hadn’t. Padmé survived, the twins survived, and the only indication that the recent dreams were possibly prophetic was, in retrospect, the fact that Obi-Wan had been the one to stay with Padmé during the birth.

So yes, he could understand Anakin’s concern. He understood. And that did not make this dilemma any easier to figure out.

“I _know_ the last ones didn’t come true,” Anakin said before Obi-Wan could voice his thoughts. “But the ones about my mom _did_. How else am I supposed to take that?”

“Slowly,” Obi-Wan said, “Patiently. Following impulse is not going to help.”

Anakin looked confused, and Obi-Wan realized in that moment he was talking more to his own murderous impulses than any Anakin hadn’t even admitted to yet. 

Oh. That was troubling. Perhaps their places were switching.

He backtracked. “I just mean, we need to think things through before we do anything.”

“But why are they happening _now?_ ”

Obi-Wan put a hand to his beard for a moment and thought. Reasons, correlations — oh. Oh, of course. “The trial,” he said softly. “Palpatine’s holding cells inside the temple prevent him from using the Force outwardly, but he isn’t in the temple now. I believe the trial is the first time he’s left his cell since his arrest.”

“So he’s using it to torture me,” Anakin said, dropping his head into his hands. “Love that.” Then he looked up. “But we don’t even know that he caused the first ones! That was just your theory!”

“But the timing, Anakin. It’s the same as before — a possible turning point in his galactic schemes. A trial that will either see him rule the galaxy or punished by it.”

“But I’m out of the picture!” Anakin groaned desperately, strained emotion layered in his voice. “What does he want with me now?”

“You know what he wants,” Obi-Wan said darkly, putting his hand atop his friend’s. “But he’s not going to get it. We’re working together this time. We all communicate now, remember? He no longer has control over us.”

Anakin sighed, and slumped back in resignation. “I don’t want to go through this again. I already sleep three hours a night as is.”

“Let me talk to the Council,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ll see if there’s anything they can do.” Anakin didn’t respond. Obi-Wan gently cupped his hand on Anakin’s cheek and turned his friend’s face toward him. “I’ll take care of this, okay? Let me figure it out. It will be all right.”

That was his promise. Let them see if he could uphold it.

He went to Yoda and Mace a few hours later, explained to them why he’d disappeared, what was going on with Anakin. He told them of his theory, that Palpatine was the source of the visions. But even now, after all the disappointments he’d had in life, Obi-Wan still found himself dismayed at the unsympathetic stares he received in return.

“Told Skywalker I did that master himself he must,” Yoda said sternly, shaking his head. “Even if causing these visions Sidious is, too susceptible to them Anakin allows himself to be. Taken my advice the first time he should have, after what nearly came of us.”

“Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said patiently, prepared to spend yet another hour of his life defending Anakin to the Council if it was required of him, “I’m sure you can understand how difficult that advice might be for Anakin to take when he’s burdened with prophetic images of his family’s death.”

“Sympathetic I am, but control he must gain! Learn to let go he _must!_ A debate this is not. Continue to exploit him Sidious and others will until accepts this Anakin does.”

“Even so,” Obi-Wan said, “If Sidious is directly causing these visions surely there must be something we can do?”

“I’m afraid not,” Windu said. “We can’t even be in the same room as Palpatine without implicating ourselves of wrongdoing as far as the Senate will see it. Force suppressors, the like — it’s impossible given these circumstances. It would be seen as sabotage. Interference in the trial.”

Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of weakness, and put a hand to his forehead. This wasn’t about the damn— “Yes. The trial. The trial that’s already going south.”

Yoda said, “Failed yet, we have not.”

“We _are_ failing, Master,” Obi-Wan said, consciously trying to keep the hopelessness away from his voice. “This is Palpatine’s government. His sham of a trial. We are literally holding him prisoner and he is still controlling everything. If we cannot take action, what more can we do?”

“There is one thing,” Windu said, eyeing him in a way that made Obi-Wan’s stomach churn.

“What?”

The two masters shared a look. 

Obi-Wan insisted, “What is it?”

“We need Skywalker to testify. He’s been subpoenaed.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said immediately. “No, absolutely not. Don’t you see this is just another ploy?”

“And what would you have us do, Obi-Wan?” Windu said. “Interfere with democracy and make our case look worse than it already does? You’re right — we _are_ losing the trial. We’re losing the court of public opinion. We’re losing the news outlets.”

“And so you need your hero,” Obi-Wan found himself saying, not liking the sound of his own words yet unable to stop them. “The Republic’s hero. The Chosen One. Destined to defeat the Sith in a court trial, instead of a battlefield. Who would have thought?”

“Mind your attachment, young one,” Yoda scolded him. Oh, dear. Obi-Wan really _was_ switching places with Anakin. Attachments and murderous impulses abound. “About that, this is not.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I know. Forgive me, Masters. It’s simply frustrating to me that Anakin is always the one called in to save the day.”

“We did not call him this time,” Windu said fairly. “Maybe his testimony will help, maybe it won’t. But he has to appear.”

“Bring him here,” Yoda said. “Talk with him we will.”

His own verbal arrogance still ringing in his ears, Obi-Wan bowed his head. “I will do as the Council bids.”

That was what they used him for, anyway.

…Oh, goodness. What was becoming of him?

And so he went back to Anakin. Back and forth, back and forth. It was late now, and he greeted Padmé with a kiss on the cheek, before pulling Anakin off to the side and tugging his cloak around himself.

Anakin grimaced, eyeing him carefully. “I hate it when you do that.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back a huff of laughter, and it felt good. “What?”

“You always look like that when you have bad news.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan said. “And before I say it — I’m simply the messenger this time, all right? I do not approve of this, I do not want this.”

Anakin made a face. “What now?”

“You’re being called to testify in the trial.”

His friend had the same reaction that Obi-Wan had had himself. “No. _No._ I will not.”

“It was not the Council who decided this.”

“I don’t care,” Anakin said. “I’m not going.”

“I don’t want you to have to,” Obi-Wan said, trying to remember who he was. The Council member, and Anakin’s friend and master. The two were often mutually exclusive, he’d found, and at that moment he wasn’t sure which he was being now. “But it’s a legal mandate, Anakin. They could arrest you if you don’t go. And considering it’s Palpatine’s government, they probably will.”

Anakin shook his head, stepping back, looking like he needed to move around. “So he’s threatening me in my dreams, threatening me in court. And what if he isn’t found guilty? What then? Is he gonna fly over to this apartment and threaten me here, too?”

“You know we would never let that happen,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “We’ll hide in the temple if we have to.”

“Don’t you understand?” Anakin exclaimed suddenly, waving his arm in the air expressively. “That doesn’t mean anything anymore! Obi-Wan, you heard me admit that I would have killed for him! Do you think I’m the only one who would? Do you think his plan hinged exclusively on me turning to the dark side? He could take the temple by force if he really wanted to! He’s the head of state, Commander-In-Chief, he controls the courts and legally the Jedi Council! He can do _anything!_ He can see into my head, Obi-Wan! Where in this galaxy do you possibly think we could hide from him?”

Obi-Wan didn’t have an answer. He felt as hopeless as Anakin sounded.

“He needs to be _stopped_ ,” Anakin went on, “And everyone always thought I would be the one to do it. Bring balance to the Force, kill the Sith, but I _can’t!_ I can’t do it because I can’t even look at his face on the kriffing holonet without breaking down! And if I do go to court it’s not like I can ask he be removed because then everyone’s going to figure out I was kriffing _groomed!_ ”

That was shocking, actually — it was the first time he’d heard Anakin admit to the grooming part of it all. Not that it was something they discussed a lot, but, still. At least he wasn’t so far in denial anymore. Therapeutic progress. A milestone in recovery.

And now Palpatine was trying to undo it all.

Anakin was right. He had to be stopped. Someone would simply have to—

“All right,” Obi-Wan said, cutting off his own thought process before it could become dangerous. “All right, listen to me.” He took a step to close the distance between them and put his hands on Anakin’s arms bracingly. “I will think of something, all right? I will. But for now, cooperate. You won’t have to do anything in court other than say exactly what happened that night. That’s all they will want to know. Palpatine will be there, but he won’t be speaking. You won’t even have to look in his direction. In the meantime, I’ll think of a plan B.”

Anakin sighed, and rested his forehead on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The sound of his voice was muffled by the fabric of Obi-Wan’s robe. “Any immediate ideas?”

Actually, he did have one, Obi-Wan thought, putting his arms around his friend in loving comfort. But…well…best keep that one to himself, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I always have assumed that the source of Anakin’s visions in ROTS was Palpatine making him have them as another manipulation tactic (because he'd have known about the visions of Shmi so he'd know it would work like a charm) but recently I remembered that there’s absolutely no evidence of that in canon and it’s strictly my interpretation which I’ve had so long I forgot that it wasn’t canon lol. Point is the source of THESE visions is absolutely Palpatine (though Anakin ofc doesn't know that for sure) but I think the scenario here still leaves the source of the ROTS visions up to your own interpretation. That's just my two cents, read it however you want!


	11. emotional machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: still not a psychologist…but I would be remiss if I didn’t shoutout stranestelle again for some of the concepts in the following section…;)
> 
> also, life update: being an adult is literally the worst and is so stressful but I just want to take a moment and say I'm really grateful for all the love and support I've gotten from you guys, both recently and over the years. I have to remind myself sometimes that people have read and been affected by my stuff all over the planet. Life can suck so much and fanfiction is our escape and I'm really, truly so happy to have people along for the escape with me. As I've said I already finished this story and I haven't been writing since then but I will honestly cherish the next coming months in which I post because I just. It feels really good when people like the things you made. I think you will love how this story turns out, because I really do and I can't wait for you to see it. Thank you <3

Dr. Druyan had not been kidding when she said it got worse before it got better.

They hadn’t even really gotten that deep yet. This process was slow, agonizingly slow, and sometimes Anakin thought he needed it to be even slower because every single session seemed to leave him as drained and miserable as he had used to feel sometimes after walking out of Palpatine’s office.

He mentioned this one day, and she said, “Can you tell me more about that?”

Like a switch flipping off, suddenly he didn’t want to talk about that at _all_. So he just said, “No.”

“Okay,” she said immediately. “Anything you do want to talk about?”

Anakin fiddled with the synth-leather of his glove. “I have to testify against him.”

She nodded. “I can help you with that.”

“They say I just have to tell them what happened that night,” he said numbly. “And that’s fine. I can do that, you know? I’ve given war reports, interviews, demonstrations for younglings. They show me and Obi-Wan on the holonet. I work just fine under pressure. But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what is?”

“He’s going to be there,” Anakin said with a lump in his throat. “He’s going to be there, listening to me, in the room, hearing me talk about him. Hearing me call him a bad person.”

Dr. Druyan put her chin in her hand thoughtfully. “Do you believe that he _is_ a bad person?”

Anakin paused, hesitated for way too long, before saying, “He’s a Sith.”

“And what does that mean to _you?_ ”

“He’s…the antithesis of the Jedi. He’s caused Jedi and other people to die. He started the war, apparently. I _know_ he’s not a good person.”

She said, “But do you feel like he is?”

He shifted in his seat, and looked away. “I don’t know what to think.”

“That’s okay,” Dr. Druyan said. “Just give me your instinct. There’s no right answer.”

Anakin stared at her for a long minute as he mustered the strength to say aloud, “I still miss him.”

“Like I said, that’s normal,” she said kindly. “What’s something specific about your relationship that you miss?”

He thought for a moment. “When I was younger he would invite me over to his office for lunch or dinner. He would always get food that I’d never tried before because he knew I wanted to experience new cultures. He would tell me about places he’s been and people he’s met. We would swap stories.”

“Has it been like that between you recently?”

“Well…I’ve been away at war for the better part of three years. Whenever I came back, I was always welcome to go see him.”

“I take it he was very nice to you?”

“Always,” Anakin said. “He was never anything but. Even when he told me he was a Sith, the night they’re making me testify about, he was so…caring.”

She nodded slowly. “When you described that night to me, you called what you had felt a mental breakdown. How was he treating you?”

“I…I remember I hadn’t eaten anything…he sat me down, gave me a glass of water…he asked me to help him. He said he wanted to help me in return.”

“Help you with what?”

“My visions,” Anakin said distantly. “Like the ones I’m having now. He said he could help save my wife from death.”

“So he was threatening you?”

“What? No, he was offering to help me.”

“Anakin,” she said gently. “He told you that if you joined him, he would save your wife. If you didn’t join him, she would die. That’s a threat.”

“He wasn’t threatening me,” Anakin insisted. “He _said_ he wasn’t threatening me.”

“Abusers will often say the exact opposite of what they really mean,” Druyan explained. “It’s a narcissistic trait that many abusers will use as a manipulation tactic. They’ll deny anything that you might accuse them of and turn it back on you. Or alternately, they might say something that reflects what they’re really thinking, but in a way that makes it sound like _you_ suggested it.”

Suddenly Anakin remembered from that fateful night:

_Who said anything about evil? Have I attacked you? Drugged you? Are you being tortured?*_

None of those had been true…but if he understood her right, then....

“But he never hurt me, though,” Anakin said, speaking more to himself than to her, he thought. “Never. He wouldn’t.”

“Abuse usually escalates,” Dr. Druyan replied. “It’s not unlikely he might have turned violent eventually. In some cases of domestic violence, for instance, the abusive partner will wait until after marriage before showing their true colors, so to speak, because they know it would be harder then for the partner to get away. It’s possible he would have physically abused you in some way if you had chosen to join him.”

“No,” Anakin said. “He cared about me. He _did_. I know he did. Does. He does care about me. He has to.”

“Anakin,” she said patiently. “You’re defending him again, remember?”

He blinked. Oh. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned back in his seat, realizing what he was saying. “Why am I?”

“For the same reason that you miss him,” she said simply. “You spent a very long time with him in which he made an effort to gain your favor. Because that’s what groomers do, and that’s what he was.”

“But what if I _had_ joined him?” he asked weakly, both wanting and not wanting to know the answer. “Would that make me as bad as him?”

“The short answer is no,” she said. “The longer answer is that some people who were abused do go on to become abusers themselves. _Some_. Not all. Not even most.”

“But I was _going_ to,” Anakin said. “I would have done literally _anything_ to save Padmé. Any single thing he asked me to do, I was prepared to do it.”

“But you —”

“No, I didn’t, but I _would have_. Don’t you understand by now? I’m not like your other cases. I wasn’t in an abusive relationship, I’m not a victim of drug trading or sex trafficking. I’m a _murderer!_ I would have been a Sith Lord! That makes me evil! Just like him! I’m just like him!”

“But you don’t want to be,” she said slowly, bracingly. “You want to improve. You want to get better. You want to feel better. I don’t think the same can be said for him.”

“What does that matter?” he said miserably. His voice was starting to grow thick, and his eyes were starting to sting. “I’ve already done things. Irredeemable things. I don’t deserve your help. I don’t deserve my friends, or my family. I only deserve _him_. I’m exactly what he wanted me to be.”

“You’re not,” she said. “You are a good person, Anakin. One day you will come to understand that.”

So much for not crying in front of this woman.

He looked at the ceiling, trying and failing to blink away the tears that were already falling down his face. “You really got your work cut out for you with me, huh?”

Despite the situation, she chuckled. “Like I said that first session, I’m happy to help people get their lives back.”

“I’ve never had my own life,” he choked out bitterly. “I was a slave. Might as well tell you that while I’m already crying.”

Anakin couldn’t look at her, but he felt comprehension dawning in the Force. “On Tatooine?”

“Born and raised.” He sniffled, accepting a facial tissue she was offering. 

“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” she said, “Regarding why he chose to target you. Abusers often pick out people they think they can exploit more easily. Often abuse victims will fall into the same trap over and over with different people because they simply don’t know otherwise. They never learned that life isn’t supposed to be that way.”

“Sometimes…I sort of wish I had stayed there. I mean, I don’t _really_ , but I kind of do, you know? At least physical abuse and slavery are obviously that. None of these stupid mind games. And at least then I could’ve stayed with my mom.”

“Miss her?”

“Every day,” he said, feeling a new wave of different emotions come on. “I keep thinking…I’m beginning to know what she must have felt when I left. I’ve only been a parent for two months and the thought of never seeing Luke and Leia again…it’s torture.” He wiped at his eyes. “And I’ve _been_ tortured before. It doesn’t even compare to the thought of losing them.”

Then he realized something. “ _She_ was tortured _too_. Was it the same for her? Was not seeing me for ten years worse than being kidnapped and tortured for a month?”

“I may not have known her,” Dr. Druyan said sympathetically, “But I’m sure she would have simply been happy to give you the chance at a better life. I’m sure she would be proud of you.”

“I’m never going to be half the parent that she was to me.”

“It sounds like you already are.”

Anakin just shook his head miserably. “They deserve a better father.”

“They deserve someone who will love them unconditionally and support them, care for them,” she said. “That sounds like you.”

“I want them to have the life I didn’t,” he said. “Will you help me?”

She smiled very warmly. “I’ve already begun to. It might not feel like it, but this — this is good.”

In response he let a restrained sob out into another tissue.

They ended the session shortly after and once his tears had dried up, Anakin went back home. Padmé must have just gotten back from work, and she greeted him with an exhausted smile and a warm, loving hug that reminded him of everything he had almost thrown away.

He thought he might have held her for a minute too long, but she just stood there, head nuzzled into his neck, letting him take his time.

He didn’t deserve her, either.

When they broke apart, she looked up at him in concern. “You okay?” He just shook his head. “Want to help me play with the twins? Do something fun?”

Anakin did want to do that. Wanted to do that more than anything. Wanted to spend time with her, with his family, with the only things he had left in this miserable universe besides the only two Jedi who had ever cared about him to any significant degree, because no one else did and no one else ever would.

But instead of doing what he wanted, he just shook his head and said, “Think I’m gonna go sleep.” Padmé nodded and gave him a gentle, fleeting kiss before he went over and collapsed on their bed and an hour later he woke up in a cold sweat, the prophetic images of his family’s deaths lingering in his mind’s eye.

* * *

Ever since Ahsoka had brought Nute Gunray back to Coruscant to give his pointless testimony, she’d been in a bit of a state.

What state? She couldn’t say. Sure, yeah, capturing some of the Separatist leaders and disbanding their Council meant that she’d helped bring an official end to the war. Great. But that was the thing: there couldn’t actually _be_ an official end to the war yet because the person who was supposed to announce that was the leader of the Republic, and that person was the Chancellor and the Chancellor was — well, old news there.

And there was nothing she could do about any of that. Right? Well, actually, that was the thing. Because she and Rex had been doing a little snooping lately, snooping specifically into the Republic military databanks to uncover more details about any potential conspiracies involving a clone trooper with a lot of fives in his number….

This whole Fives thing was — well, she wouldn’t exactly say it was driving her crazy, per se. But it was important. Really, really important. If Fives was right, and there really was a chance of the inhibitor chips causing clones to turn on the Jedi like Tup had many months ago now…and if no one else was looking into this…and if there _was_ a conspiracy…it was her duty as a Jedi to uncover it. Right?

She’d been searching through databanks aboard the star destroyer in her downtime after corralling all the Seppies on Mustafar — just like old times, really — but there was little information beyond what Rex had already been able to tell her. She’d tried calling Anakin about it, but he was being him and was having nightmares again, apparently, which honestly just motivated her more to try to uncover the truth if there was any to be found....

When she got back to Coruscant with Gunray, she’d actually gone so far as to trying to ask Master Shaak Ti what had happened from her view, but that had been…less than fruitful.

“Why do you want to know?” Master Ti said slowly, eyeing her curiously.

“Fives was my friend,” Ahsoka said, trying to appear genuine and a little casual. “My captain, Rex, explained to me what had happened, but I was wondering if you could tell me anything about how the Chancellor was involved.”

Master Ti put her hands together. “I understand your concern, young one. I, too, suspected nefarious actions on the part of the Kaminoans. But Fives’s behavior had already been erratic long before he went in to see the Chancellor. Even knowing what we know now, I’m inclined to believe it may have been something far more innocent than you suspect.”

“But doesn’t it seem odd?”

“It may,” Master Ti replied patiently. “Indeed, everything to do with the Chancellor is suspicious in retrospect. And if you are able to procure any evidence, I’m sure the Council will agree to look into your claim.”

“Don’t you think that of all things, even the possibility of a conspiracy involving the clones is something we should be looking at?” Ahsoka asked her, starting to get frustrated but trying to hide it.

Master Ti’s expression changed gradually to become slightly more stern. “Ahsoka. Are you sure you’re not focused on this out of a desire for revenge?”

Ahsoka blinked. “Excuse me, Master?”

“I sense a great deal of unrest in you, young one,” the older Togruta said, stroking one of her lekku. Ahsoka wondered if her own would ever get that long. “I know your feelings regarding Chancellor Palpatine are complicated given the situation with Skywalker. But I worry that given the times, that which you are dwelling on may be unproductive. I recommend you focus your attention on the Force, and trying to remain calm and alert. If we can all do this as a collective, the Sith will have no advantages over us.”

So… _that_ had been a cold lead.

Ahsoka had even become so desperate for information on this bizarre alleged conspiracy that she’d briefly entertained the idea of going to Kamino to try to find out more, but Rex stopped her in her tracks and told her that would be a no-go. The Kaminoans were rigid in their secrets, and militant against any who could be perceived as acting out. Jedi were welcome there, but that didn’t mean she would be allowed access to any information, especially not if the Kaminoans _had_ buried some of that information in the first place....

But then what were they supposed to _do?_

“I get it, kid,” Rex said after she met him in the 501st barracks on Coruscant to report what Shaak Ti had said. “I hate to say it, but…she might be right. I wanted to take the Chancellor out too…I don’t really care much about the government, or the politics that caused this pointless war…I know there’s nothing I can do about that. But all I ever wanted was to avenge Fives and help General Skywalker. But maybe we are overthinking it.”

She frowned. He could be right, but what if…what if they entertained her last, most wild idea....

“Have you ever checked yourself for a chip?”

Rex looked confused. “They said we all have ‘em. They said if we remove them we could go crazy, or die.”

“And I would never want to put your life in danger,” Ahsoka said. “You know that. But Fives was alone with the Chancellor. Palpatine is a Sith. We don’t know what he might have done to Fives. He could have drugged him, hurt him. You said he was acting erratic.”

“You’re not wrong,” Rex said thoughtfully. “Kix told me that when Fives asked him to call me and the general, he seemed fine. By the time we saw him, though, something had changed. I don’t know if he was crazy, drugged, or just paranoid for his life.”

Ahsoka nodded. “And if it _is_ a conspiracy…which I’m inclined to believe it is…and if he _was_ framed….”

Rex sighed, thinking. “I have thought about checking for a chip,” he admitted. Then he shrugged. “What the hell. Let’s have a look at least.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it might make a difference I’ll take the risk,” he confirmed grimly. “The trial looks like it’s headed south. Maybe this will give them a leg up.”

“I think this is the right move,” Ahsoka said. “But if you change your mind, just say so.”

They went back to their flagship and found Kix, explaining their theories and asking for his help. When they got to the part where Fives had found him at the clone bar, 79’s, Kix put his hand on his hip and seemed to search inside his mind for what had happened that night.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty lucid,” he said, remembering. “Totally fine, actually. I wouldn’t have guessed he was drugged or attacked or anything, the way he was acting.”

“Good,” said Rex. “Then I need you to help me remove my inhibitor chip, pronto.”

Kix took a step back. “Now, hold on, Commander. You heard what the Kaminoans said about those things. I’m not about to kill you by mistake.”

“We’ll do it without you if we have to,” Ahsoka said, “But I’d feel better with a trained medic watching over the procedure.”

“I’m sure of this, Kix,” Rex said. “It’s not an order, but I’d like your help. As a friend. As an honor to Fives’s memory.”

Kix sighed. “I do miss that impulsive jughead. And Tup. All right, I’ll help — but I reserve the right to stop this if I think it becomes a danger to you.”

“Fair enough,” Rex said, and looked at Ahsoka. “Ready?”

“You’re the one who needs to be,” she said, trying to ignore her reflexive worry. Rex just gave her a nod, and indicated for Kix to lead them to the medbay.

Okay, then, Ahsoka thought.

Time to find out if they were right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *these lines are from the novel
> 
> I guess in “canon” Kix was captured or something after the Bad Batch arc?? But I don't really keep up with the new content anymore so I don't know what that's from and I'm ignoring it here. Sorry lol but I gotta have my best medic boi with the sick tattoos


	12. ...& control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter is arguably the darkest one…ahead is emotional abuse, unresolved trauma, and a load of anxiety...you know. the good stuff 
> 
> as someone who tries to make her stories as realistic as possible and does way too much research for things that I write for free…I must remind you that I am definitely not a lawyer LOL like I said this is all based loosely off a US TV courtroom drama, mostly because that’s my main exposure to (fictionalized) court proceedings. Fair enough?
> 
> so until Lucasfilm publishes a peer-reviewed academic manuscript guide to lawyerings in the gffa......
> 
> p.s. thank you for all the kudos and comments I'm living for them <3

Anakin couldn’t sleep. 

To be fair, sleep had been pretty elusive for the last couple months as a whole. Couple years, really. From unpredictable battlefields to trauma nightmares to newborns that were hungry every three hours, not sleeping a lot was something he was pretty good at handling. It was normal. It was fine.

But this wasn’t that. This was lying awake in bed as the world was silent and peaceful around him, the humming bodies of his wife and children adrift in their own contented dreams, but knowing that if _he_ closed his eyes and joined them he would see only death. This was knowing that even when he had time to sleep, he might as well not even bother because he was just going to wake up in a cold sweat in an hour feeling even more exhausted than he had before.

Obi-Wan said that Palpatine was doing it. Anakin thought that made enough sense, honestly, but he wasn’t quite sure. He’d had his first one when Palpatine had been out of his Force-dampening prison cell, or however that worked, but he could confirm that they definitely were _not_ limited to his afternoon naps — the only times where his (attempts at) sleep overlapped with Palpatine being out of the temple for the trial. That first vision had led to another, then another, and now it was just like the last time. The days were blurring together along with his thoughts, and suddenly he didn’t know what was real from what was just his paranoia talking. 

And Anakin _knew_ what sleep deprivation did to the body. He knew what it did to the mind. He knew what it did to _him_. He knew what he had almost done partially because of it. But here, again, he was powerless. If he didn’t sleep he would have another mental breakdown. If he did sleep he would have a prophetic nightmare vision about his wife and children dying horribly, begging him for help. There was absolutely no way to win.

They were less coherent this time than his ones about Padmé in labor had been, although those hadn’t really been coherent at all. These were more like the ones about his mom. Vague, foggy images, feelings, sensations. The dreams about Padmé’s death had very clearly been in childbirth, an inevitable situation for a woman as pregnant as she had been. The ones about Shmi had just been…screaming. Calling out for him. Nondescript pain. Just like he was seeing now.

He didn’t know what to do. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do. The Council didn’t know what to do, or didn’t care. Ahsoka was busy researching Fives’s death, and wasn’t here for him to talk to. Dr. Druyan didn’t know anything about the Force, but said something about the dreams likely being a trauma response to Anakin starting to talk more about his abuse. Padmé agreed with Obi-Wan that these were probably just a fabrication, and again, Anakin _wanted_ to believe that, but they were just so…real. So tangible. So mind-numbingly sleep-deprivingly all-consumingly awful.

And they made the things he had to do a lot harder than they already had to be.

He’d been subpoenaed. Called to testify in court against the one man in the universe he wanted nothing more to do with. It was the single last place that he wanted to be, and if he hadn’t been so sleep deprived maybe he would have tried to find a way out of it, but he had absolutely no ideas. About anything. No ideas about literally _anything_. It felt like everything was working against him. It was miserable. Everything was miserable. Life was miserable. Again. Or, just like always.

But he complied. He went to the temple and talked the prosecution team about what they wanted him to say. They said all he needed to do was tell the court what happened the night that Palpatine was arrested. Anakin didn’t really want to do that at _all_ because that was kind of the worst night in his entire life and could have been a lot worse, but he was too tired to argue. Like he’d told Padmé and Obi-Wan, he didn’t want _anything_ to do with this. He wanted this to be out of his hands. And yet it felt like the fate of the entire galaxy was being thrust upon his shoulders…again.

He talked to Yoda. It was pretty much the same as before — learn to let go, learn self-control. Anakin didn’t even argue. He wasn’t a Jedi anymore, so he _could_ , if he wanted — but he didn’t want to, honestly. He didn’t want to do anything but sleep uninterrupted. And that was impossible.

He was so _tired_.

He didn’t have to go to court right away. There were more people testifying before him, or something or other. He hadn’t been paying attention. He’d turned on the holonet a few times, in a vain effort to try to have a general understanding of what was going on because of this trial determining the future of the Republic and all, but the holocams liked to focus on Palpatine’s face a lot and it made Anakin want to throw something, so that was a no go. 

Obi-Wan stayed over at Padmé’s apartment most nights. He was trying to help, and Anakin was grateful, but it all felt so hopeless. They would try meditating, and Anakin even tried sleeping pills again, but — nothing. Nothing but nightmares and fear. Nothing but dread and sorrow. Nothing but tears of frustration and a few of consolation. 

Control, control, Yoda said. But Anakin was _trying._ And he’d never really understood the whole ‘do or do not’ thing, so that didn’t help, either. He was fighting a losing battle, and he didn’t know what would happen when the fight was over. He just didn’t know. He just wanted this all to be over.

Finally, the day came. Jobal wished them all good luck — again, she was an angel — and he flew off with Padmé and Obi-Wan early so he could be briefed one more time by the legal team the Jedi had put together. Anakin tried his very best to focus, avoided the temptation to guzzle caf like a desert wanderer who’d just found an oasis (not based on a real example — Tatooine was so desolate and barren it didn’t even _have_ oases) and when it was finally time, he made his way into the trial chamber and willed his heart rate to go down even a little.

He went over to his seat. Sat down. All he could think in that moment was: don’t look at Palpatine, don’t look at him, don’t look don’t look don’t look. His feelings about the man lately were really…really…really…complicated. Logically Anakin _knew_ now that it was abuse that had happened to him all those years. He knew that. It was abuse. He was abused. He _knew_ that. He was aware of it, now. He was groomed. That was what happened. That was the truth. And he was starting to almost actually comprehend the very true weight of that truth.

And it made him really, really, really, really really really _sick_.

Not like, nauseous sick. But like every single atom, every white blood cell, every neuron, every midi-chlorian and mitochondria alike was just…infected. Palpatine was a disease, and Anakin’s immune system was fighting for its life. Palpatine was one of those Geonosian parasite zombie worms that had crawled into his ear and was whispering his thoughts to him. Like Anakin had said before to Padmé, and Obi-Wan, and Dr. Druyan, he didn’t know which thoughts were his and which were Palpatine’s. He didn’t know how much of himself was that Sith apprentice that had almost been. The Sith apprentice that never was, but that Anakin knew he _could have_ been. The Sith who Anakin had nearly decided to be. The Sith whose elusive Darth name was a frequent thought on those sleepless nights spent staring up at Padmé’s ceiling, wondering what he might have been called if no one had been there to stop him that night.

But Anakin wasn’t a Sith. He wasn’t, and he never would be. He was Anakin, Anakin was him, and he was here, now, in this room with Palpatine, to do his part in making sure that his Sith name could never be known. He was here to destroy the Sith, in the only way he could. Because that was what people needed him to do. And if he could only do it with words, then he would do that. If he could. Which he wasn’t sure of. Especially not when he was so damn _tired_.

As this session of the trial started, Anakin tried to channel his inner Obi-Wan, and his inner Padmé. Masters of the spoken word, of persuasion, negotiation. He could do this.

He _would_ do this. He’d do it for them. After all that they had done for him. He had to.

Breathe. Breathe. Like Obi-Wan had always said. There were holocams on him, and people staring at him, but he’d been a battlefield commander leading thousands of clones into combat. He was the first and only human podracer, who had won a race at nine years old. He was, in Obi-Wan’s playful words, a poster boy for the war. He could handle a few people’s attention. 

He just had to pretend that a ‘few’ wasn’t actually a few _trillion_.

It all started off pretty well. Like he’d practiced with the Jedi, he went over what had happened that night, leaving out the details that honestly were not necessary, and getting to the barebones of the situation. He’d been acting as a messenger between the Jedi Council and the Chancellor, he said, since he'd returned from the Outer Rim Sieges only a few days prior. He was appointed by the Chancellor and approved by the Jedi Council so that the two parties could communicate with ease. He did _not_ say that he was a spy, and he did _not_ say that he’d hated doing this with every fiber of his being. Instead he stuck to the script, and made a great effort to make sure it did not actually sound like a script at all.

He recounted how Palpatine’s sources had located General Grievous on Utapau, and how he’d told the Jedi Council, who had assigned Obi-Wan to this mission, and that Anakin had been sent by Windu to inform Palpatine that Obi-Wan had engaged Grievous. Anakin did _not_ repeat Windu’s instruction to take note of Palpatine’s reaction, but he did recount Palpatine calling the signees of the Petition of the 2000 traitors. He _definitely_ did not mention that he hadn’t been thinking clearly the entire day in question, and that in truth it had all blurred together kind of like everything was blurring together right now....

Anakin thought he was honestly doing pretty well up until this point, but suddenly there was a lump rising in his throat that he forced himself to swallow down. He had not looked at Palpatine this whole time and he continued not to, but part of him desperately wanted to, the part of himself that he hated, the part of Anakin that had gone back to Palpatine time and time again seeking validation and support and friendship and comfort and all the things the Jedi hadn’t given to him over the course of a decade of confused adolescence—

No. No, no. No. Not thinking about that. Not saying that. No no no.

He took a breath, and continued. Anakin recalled as much as he could without making him look like he’d been one mental breakdown away from helping Palpatine overthrow the Jedi Order — ahem — saying that Palpatine had informed Anakin that he was the Sith Lord and that he had concealed this information from everyone and that Anakin had then gone to inform Master Windu of this, who had taken over the situation and told Anakin to stay in the temple while he went to arrest the Chancellor.

That was all he was supposed to say, the Jedi had told him, the barebones facts, the most general explanation of what had happened. The prosecutor that the Jedi had been working with, Kheli, asked him a few more questions to clarify what he’d already said, and Anakin responded, praying that this would be over soon and he could go see the kids and escape this room so he didn’t have to keep fighting the temptation to look over Palpatine’s face, wondering how he would react to this, wondering if he was upset with Anakin for speaking against him, wondering if Anakin was actually doing the wrong thing after all the years Palpatine had spent being so nice and kind to him—

No, no, no! Control, control, control. Gain control. He was in control. Everything was fine. Everything was great. Everything was really fine. Just fine. Anakin was groomed by that man, and now he was fine. Totally fine.

Totally. Calm. And. Fine.

The prosecutor stepped down, and after a minute Tarkin got up to cross examine. Anakin liked Tarkin well enough — that was, he _had_ , until Tarkin had tried to get Ahsoka convicted of treason, which was when Anakin’s own life had started to plummet downhill faster than a podracer zipping across the Dune Sea. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was why Palpatine had picked Tarkin, because he knew it would be just another blow to Anakin’s gut — but that might just be his paranoia talking, along with his complete and utter lack of sleep, which he really couldn’t emphasize enough....

Suddenly that lump was back in Anakin’s throat. He forced himself to swallow it down, relaxed his shoulders, took a few steadying breaths....

The Jedi and Kheli had warned him of this. Tarkin would try to poke holes in his story, use it against them. Anakin couldn’t let him do that. He had to stand his ground, and stay consistent. That was a little hard, Anakin had to admit, when he was leaving out half of the truth. Y’know, the half where he had soaked up every word Palpatine had told him like a dry sponge dropped in the oceans of Kamino and had nearly—

Uh. Not thinking about that. It wasn’t relevant. No one had to know except those that already did. No one _would_ know. No one _needed_ to know.

Tarkin stood before him, hands held primly behind his back in a military stance, and surveyed him carefully. “General Skywalker,” he said, “How long have you known the Chancellor?”

Anakin already didn’t like where this was going. “About thirteen years.”

“What is the nature of your relationship?”

Really didn’t like this at all. “He was a friend.”

“Was?”

Anakin forced himself not to look over at Palpatine. It took all his courage to say, “I don’t consider a Sith Lord a friend.”

“But you did. That’s a rather unusual friendship, isn’t it? You must have been very young when it started.”

He swallowed. None of this was anyone’s business. “I was a participant in the Battle of Naboo, and I met the Chancellor shortly after. It all went on from there.”

“The Chancellor informed me that he was something of a mentor to you. Is that true?”

No one’s business! Stop asking! “At one point, yes.”

“At one point? When would you say that it ended?”

Anakin’s heart was pounding against his ribs. “Again, when he revealed to me that he was a Sith Lord.”

“Recently, then,” Tarkin said. “So you two were close for a long time?”

“Objection, your Honor,” Kheli said. “Why is this relevant?”

The court justice nodded and said, “Get to the point, Moff.”

“General,” Tarkin said, taking a few steps around his space as he spoke. “The Jedi have officially accused the Supreme Chancellor of intending to do away with their Order. You allege that Chancellor Palpatine informed you that he was a Sith Lord shortly before Mace Windu arrested him. Did the Chancellor ever state to you that this was his intention?”

“Not in those exact words, no,” Anakin said.

“Then what words did he use?”

Anakin tried to think what the Jedi would want him to say. Truth was, he had no idea. This was all the stuff he’d been trying _not_ to think about at all for the last few months. “He told me that the Jedi Council was going to try to overthrow him, but I believe he was only saying that to make me think it was true.”

One of Tarkin’s eyebrows raised. “Are you indicating that he coerced you in any way?”

In fact, Dr. Druyan had even said that it wasn’t a good idea to delve into his trauma without her there to help him cope with the emotions that came from it. So, when he said that this was the last thing he wanted to think about, he really, really meant it.

And he was so _tired_.

“Well — no, not exactly,” Anakin said, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if he coerced you?”

He could feel himself shaking, and tried to make sure it wasn’t obvious. He could feel it in his voice, though, and couldn’t do away with it. “I — I believe he was trying to.”

“What do you believe he was trying to coerce you into?”

It was like his throat was closing in on himself. “I’m not sure,” he lied.

“Move it along, Tarkin,” said the presiding justice. Tarkin turned back to Anakin.

“Very well, let me get straight to the point. General, if Chancellor Palpatine really is this mysterious alleged Sith Lord, why do you think he would reveal this information to you? Especially if your Jedi would find it so damning?”

Anakin didn’t actually have a response to that. He opened his mouth slightly, trying to figure out again how the Jedi would want him to answer that question when suddenly he heard in his head, out of nowhere:

_That which you most fear will come to pass…_

A sharp inhale filled his lungs. Anakin heard the words as clearly and distinctly as he could hear Tarkin speaking…he hadn’t heard the Chancellor’s voice in so long, not since that one night, and a really ugly, disgusting part of himself still missed it so badly even now—

_If I am found guilty…if I am not set free…_

His head instinctively snapped in Palpatine’s direction for the first time since he’d arrived in this courtroom. A chill rippled through Anakin’s body, settling heavy in his stomach. Sudden fear wrapped itself around him like a coil. His old mentor’s face was angled forward but his eyes, Anakin thought, were pointing vaguely in his own direction. Anakin repeated those words in his head, trying to make sense of them. That which he fears—

Wait, no. _No_. Ignore him. Anakin steeled his jaw and looked away. It was just a trick. Ignore it. This was just confirmation that Obi-Wan was right about the source of the visions after all. It had to be. Well, Anakin was not here to play games. He was here to make sure Palpatine was _not_ set free and to set right what he himself had almost done—

“General?” Tarkin said suddenly, and Anakin realized he’d been waiting for a response this whole time. “Are you unwell?”

_I will ensure it. I will do it myself._

“No, I —”

_I will make you watch._

“I’m fine....”

_But it is not too late…_

“Shall I repeat the question?” Tarkin’s voice said as if from far away. Anakin nodded, blinking to make himself focus. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore— “I asked you why you think the Chancellor would reveal to you that he were a Sith Lord — if that is truly the case, which we still have yet to confirm.”

Anakin tried so hard not to look again in Palpatine’s direction. He couldn’t keep his gaze focused.

_…help me, Anakin…_

“He _is_ the Sith Lord,” Anakin started, “He told me so—”

“Please answer the question.”

_I’m frightened, Anakin. I need your help._

Anakin swallowed. Concentrate. Ignore. Focus. “I don’t know why.”

Tarkin eyed him, cocking an eyebrow skeptically. “May I remind the General that perjury in court is a punishable offense?”

“Objection,” said a voice — the prosecutor, Anakin realized vaguely, Kheli. “General Skywalker is not on trial.”

“I believe there is more to the general’s story than he is telling the court, your Honor,” Tarkin said to the court justice. Anakin could barely focus on what anyone was saying, the disembodied voice’s words lingering so tangibly in his mind he could almost see them. “I find it hard to believe that Chancellor Palpatine would come forward with this information for no reason. The Chancellor himself has denied any allegations of being a supposed Sith Lord. Is it not our duty to be diligent in questioning the only witness the Jedi can produce of this evidence they find so incriminating?”

There was a moment of silence. Terror and dread stabbed at Anakin’s chest like a knife. Or a lightsaber, scarlet, clenched in his hand as he acted out the will of the Sith—

Then the presiding justice said, “Objection overruled. You may continue.”

Tarkin turned back to Anakin expectantly. Anakin didn’t know what to say. What — what the _hell_ was he supposed to _do_ —

Palpatine’s voice in his head sounded so desperate. Sounded so—

_Anakin, please!_

Genuine…

Tarkin was watching him. The whole room was. It felt like everything was closing in on him. It felt like every eye in the galaxy was trained on him. They probably were. And here Anakin was just sitting, speechless, trying to find any words at all and coming up short. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move. He was frozen. 

“General Skywalker?”

His mind was racing. Answering that question — why had Palpatine revealed the truth — would make Palpatine look more guilty, right? If Anakin said that Palpatine had been trying to turn him? But — but then why would Tarkin be asking him that? Anakin couldn’t just shout at the holocams that he’d been groomed because then everyone would know, and maybe that was what Palpatine wanted in the first place, to silence him in the most publicly humiliating way possible—

The voice in his head continued, but this time it was deeper, less familiar, barely recognizable yet somehow still known to him:

_Anakin…_

—and maybe that was what Anakin deserved for never catching on to begin with, for not killing Palpatine himself when he’d had the chance to, maybe he was really the one being punished—

Suddenly Tarkin said: “Honorable representatives of the Senate,” and Anakin could barely hear it over the rushing noise in his head and the ache under his skull. “I do not believe this witness is in a suitable state of mind to be giving such key witness testimony, as he is clearly unable to answer even a few simple questions.”

_the name you were wondering about…_

—and Anakin didn’t know if publicly admitting to almost pledging himself to the Sith was better than publicly admitting that he was groomed, he didn’t know he didn’t know he didn’t know—

“As is quite well known,” Tarkin’s voice was saying, “Eyewitness testimony is often unreliable. General Skywalker has not put together a complete and coherent story, and it does not seem to me that he is in an adequate mental state to recall what happened on the night in question.”

_your Darth name…_

Anakin tried to speak. He tried. He opened his mouth, and it stayed like that in case he found the words. He wanted to help the Jedi. He wanted to help Padmé and Obi-Wan. But he felt like anything he might say would just make it worse, make it worse like everything he had ever tried to make better, that was what he always wanted, to make things better, but he always always always ended up making things worse—

“I move that the general’s statements be ruled as inadmissible in this court, on the grounds of witness incompetence.”

_is Vader…_

Anakin felt his eyes involuntarily lock with Palpatine’s, felt his own lips move to form the word, the name, his name, Vader, Darth Vader, _Vader Vader Vader_ —

Another voice called out, “All in favor?”

This is your only chance, he told himself. Speak. Act. Do something. Speak, speak, speak you _idiot_ —

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. The only thing he wanted to do suddenly was to cry, and he was not about to do _that_ on the holonet.

What the _kriff_ was wrong with him, speak speak speak speak speak—

“Votes have been cast,” said the voice of the judge on the tall podium. “General Skywalker, you may step down.”

Anakin heard the words as if from far away, and as he slowly clamored to his feet he just couldn’t help it, he risked one more glance at Palpatine and thought he saw the littlest, tiniest smile curling at the edges of his mouth. Anakin felt his feet carry him to the door, and as he neared the exit he sent his own thought out into the Force, thinking it as loudly and bravely and defiantly as he could muster: _I will never help you. Never._

And as the door was about to close behind him, Anakin heard in his head, suddenly thinking he was going to be very, very sick indeed:

_Anakin, my boy, you just did._

* * *

Obi-Wan watched with a heavy heart as Anakin left the stand and disappeared behind the door, but then the slightest movement drew his gaze away. It was Palpatine, and just the smallest shift of his head, turning to look — right at him. Right at Obi-Wan. Their eyes locked, and like a lightning bolt straight to the heart Obi-Wan saw in Palpatine’s eyes— 

Triumph. Thrill. Certainty. Enjoyment.

For the longest, most standstill moment they stared at each other, as if time had stopped and it was only them in the universe. By the time Palpatine’s eyes shifted away from him something had swelled in Obi-Wan’s heart, and he decided with a sureness and a clarity the likes of which he had never felt before, as if a message directly from the heart of the Force itself:

He was going to kill that man. That wretched, horrible old man who had almost stolen his Padawan away. Without even an ounce of hesitation, of doubt, Obi-Wan knew that he _would_ end that man’s life, and end it soon, and what’s more—

With a coil around his heart the same as he had felt when he’d struck down Maul on Naboo, Obi-Wan thought—

It was very, very possible that he was going to enjoy it.


	13. i'm a ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments on last chapter had me DEAD at work when I read them. blessings on you all and blessings on your cows

It took Obi-Wan as long as the journey home from the trial to his room in the Jedi Temple to decide with finality that it was time to do as he had been tempted for the last two months. To put an end to this. To take action in the way that no one else was willing or able. To finish this, once and for all.

The only question, then, was how. He’d had a lot of wild fantasies over the last couple weeks, the ones that he’d dismissed and ignored like the good, proper Jedi Master everyone thought he was. Silly strings of thought, like shooting Palpatine down the way he’d disposed of Grievous on Utapau (how uncivilized) or perhaps dueling him head on (Obi-Wan would die, surely) or even just marching in there and tearing Palpatine limb from limb, watching him bleed and beg and reducing him to nothing. None of those options were _really_ options, of course, because he _was_ still Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he had no intention of doing something that might end up in him falling to the dark side himself. No, that was not preferable at all.

There were other complications as well. The _how_ wasn’t just how would he kill the man, but how would Obi-Wan act once it was done?

The most ethical act (to the degree that any murder could be considered ethical, which his peers would say that it could not) would be to simply kill the man and then turn himself in. Give a full confession and accept full responsibility, absolving the Order of blame and yet protecting the Republic, protecting Anakin. Spend the rest of his life in prison knowing that he had done the right thing for the galaxy, accept his guilt and rest easy knowing Anakin would be free of his abuser’s torment for good. It was the correct path, he thought, the only way he could do this act and still maintain a shred of respect for the Order that had raised him. The Order that he loved. 

And Obi-Wan _did_ love the Order, loved it to pieces. He had lived in this temple as far as his memory extended back, had considered these people his family since his earliest days. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish the Order’s reputation and stain their clean record of morally good deeds with his one selfish act of vigilantism. That said, he _was_ going to commit that selfish act, he had already committed to it — but he had to find a way to do it without hurting his family. And if that required he confess, only to spend the remainder of his own life behind ray shields and Force-dampening walls, then so be it.

Obi-Wan would be quite contented to leave it at that, if not for one thing. The thing that gave him pause, the thing that stopped all his assassination plans in their tracks as soon as he could come up with them. That thing was that Obi-Wan did not _want_ to spend his life in prison. He would, if it was necessary — and it very well might be, he thought, as he’d not yet come up with any alternatives that still saw Palpatine dead — but the absolute truth was that he would much rather spend the rest of his days with Anakin, and Padmé, and their children, and a life in confinement would simply not give him that option.

He was torn. Torn between immediate, impulsive action the way that Anakin always was, the urge to murder that man in cold blood, and to do it publicly, that Palpatine might know a shred of the shame and humiliation that he had put upon Obi-Wan’s Padawan — and between living a life of peace and quiet with Anakin and his family in the lake country of Naboo, surrounded by nature, tranquility, eternal calm, and maybe the occasional Gungun.

So that was his dilemma. Choose the good of the Order, choose the right thing to do, the ethical thing — or choose Anakin. Because much like Anakin himself, in his personal struggle between wanting a family and wanting to be a Jedi — Obi-Wan knew he could not have both.

That was what it all came down to. If it _was_ possible and he _could_ come up with a plan where he killed Palpatine and lived the rest of his life as a free man, without tarnishing the Order’s reputation…if it was feasible in any way....

The Order, or Anakin. The commitment he had made to the Republic, or the one he had made to Qui-Gon. His home, or his friend. His family, or his brother.

Against the sunset behind the blinds in his room in the temple, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and breathed in and out. Felt the Force. Felt for an answer. It did not give him one, but in truth — he wasn’t sure he needed the reassurance.

There was only one real choice. And it was a choice Obi-Wan had been prepared to make ever since he’d knelt before Yoda in a room on Naboo, informing the Grand Master that he would uphold his promise to Qui-Gon even if it meant disobeying the Council. Leaving the Order.

Leaving the Order. Leaving his home.

There was no way around it.

That was simply what he would have to do.

That was what Anakin had asked him to do, before the trial. Obi-Wan’s response had been that he wasn’t ready, but perhaps…perhaps he was now. And all it had taken for him to get there was watching the man that had nearly ruined his life passively and publicly torment Anakin for the entire galaxy to see.

Interesting. Perhaps Obi-Wan should thank Palpatine before he murdered him.

* * *

Padmé was not a woman that was prone to helplessness. She was a fighter, not a taker. She did not relent, and she never gave up on _anything_.

But this…this might have been the most hopeless situation she’d ever been in. 

Anakin had been crying all night after coming home from the trial. Nothing loud or ugly or explosive, just tears on his face and the occasional sob or two. Padmé had seen him cry many times — after his mother, after Obi-Wan had faked his death, after coming back home from particularly horrible war scenarios, like Zygerria or Felucia or some planet called Mortis. Often she was glad he did, because it meant he was expressing his emotions rather than holding them in as he often did. She was glad he was able to show them now. She just wished he didn’t _have_ to, was all. And because of that, she wanted more than anything for him to be able to stop.

“He can’t hurt you,” Padmé tried to assure him, holding his hand, rubbing circles into his back. “You know we will never, ever let him hurt you. It’s okay, Ani, I promise....”

He just shook his head and buried his face in his hands.

She didn’t know if it was just the stress of what had happened at the trial, or if something _else_ had happened, something she wasn’t aware of. He didn’t seem able to tell her, for he could hardly get any words out at all. And he seemed to be passing off his emotions to the twins, because they were especially upset tonight, which was really the first demonstration of Force-sensitivity they had shown and now Padmé had _three_ crying people to deal with and she loved them each in turn but nothing she could do would seem to help....

_This_ was what she’d been trying to warn the Loyalists about. This underhanded, evil, manipulative power that Palpatine had, that the Senate claimed ignorance to. She knew he was responsible for this. She knew it. That was part of why she’d never wanted Anakin to have to testify at all, had foolishly hoped they would be able to solve this catastrophe and convict the man before it ever came to that. How wrong she had been. How wrong she always appeared to be.

This was, frankly, unacceptable. This could not continue. This man had to be taken _out_.

She just wished she had the power to do it. It didn’t seem that she had any power here at all.

There just didn’t seem to be any hope. Not anymore.

She just didn’t know what to do....

* * *

Obi-Wan came to see him the day after the flubbed trial and all Anakin could do was apologize.

“For what?”

“I ruined it all,” Anakin said miserably. “Testifying was only thing I could do to help and I ruined it.”

Anakin would readily confess that he did not expect Obi-Wan’s reaction to that would be to pull him into a hug so warm that it felt like a ray of sunlight shining through dense cloud cover. He also did not expect Obi-Wan to whisper into his hair, “You did very well, Anakin. I’m so proud of you.”

“No, I didn’t,” Anakin said, speaking into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “He’s still controlling me. I let him get in my head. Literally.”

Obi-Wan pulled back enough to look at him. “What do you mean?”

So Anakin told him. Told him about Palpatine’s threat — to kill Anakin’s family if he didn’t join the Sith — and his final message, that it had all been a trick to take advantage of Anakin, just like every other damn thing the man had ever said to him for his entire damn life. Obi-Wan listened with an odd look on his face, one of comprehension and something else that Anakin could not quite decipher. Deep concentration, like he was trying to figure out a complex physics equation.

“I won’t let it come true, Master,” Anakin said, knowing full well that he’d said these words before and remembering exactly what had happened afterward. “I’ll kill him. I’ll do anything. I won’t let him near my family.”

But Obi-Wan seemed to come back to himself, and put his hands on either of Anakin’s arms in comfort. “You won’t have to,” he said certainly. “I will make sure of that.”

This time it was Anakin’s turn to say, “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan took a long, thoughtful breath. “Do you remember,” he said, “Back when you were a boy, and I told you that I would take on your burdens if I could?”

The memory returned to Anakin’s mind as if it were yesterday. He’d been lamenting his status as the Chosen One, something he had never wanted and never asked for. It had been a particularly candid moment in his relationship with Obi-Wan, one that had brought them closer together and made them understand each other a little more. He bit his lip, and nodded.

“Well, perhaps I can,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Perhaps it’s time I make good on my promise to help you.”

Anakin frowned. “You have a plan?”

“I told you I’d think of one, didn’t I?”

“Well, what is it?”

But Obi-Wan just shook his head. “Don’t you worry. Just let me take care of it.”

Anakin didn’t know what to make of that. Really, he had absolutely no idea what that meant. But after everything that had happened, with the trial and the sleep-deprivation and the dreams and the fact that a man who he had trusted implicitly was haunting his waking thoughts _and_ his sleeping thoughts and would stop at absolutely nothing to get Anakin to join him, against his will if necessary—

At the end of the day Obi-Wan’s words, simple as they were, came as a welcome relief. They really were a promise. Anakin didn’t know what the promise was, but in the Force Obi-Wan felt so…sure. So honest. So calm. Everything the opposite of how Anakin himself was feeling. So reassuring.

There was this thing Dr. Druyan had been telling him in therapy. It was that when some people were abused from a young age, part of their psyche seemed to stay a child, as a sort of defense against being forced to grow up too fast. Like they lost their innocence too early, and didn’t get to properly enjoy their youth the way children were supposed to. Of the two of them Anakin was hardly the psychologist, but honestly that made a lot of sense to him. He’d always wanted to be grown up, had always hated being treated like a kid when _clearly_ he’d been mentally older, right?

_Anakin…don’t try to grow up too fast._

But now…now Anakin was just glad. Because Master Obi-Wan was here, and he would make things better. He always did.

So Anakin sighed in concession and said, “Just…don’t do anything I would do.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “You know, this teaching arrangement we had was a two-way hyperspeed lane. You taught me just as much as I taught you.”

“That lends me no indication at all of what you’re planning.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said, smiling so brightly the age lines around his eyes became pronounced. 

Well, Anakin supposed…at least one of them had their stuff together.

* * *

Rex’s operation was an overwhelming success, and so organic clone chip in hand, Ahsoka made her way to address the Council, praying to the Force that they would listen to her.

It became clear very quickly that they would not.

Her first mistake was coming here to speak with them when Obi-Wan was absent. She didn’t know where he was, but most of the other Council members were here — a very different roster than when she’d walked away from the Order, interestingly enough. She wondered vaguely if Luminara, Depa Billaba, and Cin Drallig would have voted to expel her without listening to her testimony the way the rest of the Council had.

They granted her leave to speak, so Ahsoka explained her findings, her conversation with Shaak Ti, and how she’d been digging into the conspiracy that Fives had told Rex and Anakin about. How she wanted to bring suspicion to the Chancellor’s conclusion of a parasite, especially given what they knew about the man now. She showed them Rex’s chip, and said he was being monitored by Kix to make sure he was safe after having the chip removed. When she finished going over what she knew, she watched as the Council exchanged looks with each other, communicating in the Force in a way that she was not privy to. 

The looks in their eyes weren’t…dismissive, exactly. But they didn’t seem extremely interested, either, and that…well, that was really annoying.

She was trying to _help_. Couldn’t they see that? Couldn’t they see that this wasn’t nothing? What if this led somewhere? What if the thing about the Jedi being possible targets was true? What if —

“Taking this seriously, we are,” Yoda said, sensing her desire. Damn. She’d been slacking on her mental shields since being out of the temple, and that was a habit she really needed to get back into.

…If she was going to stay here, anyway. Which. Well. Who knows.

No. She wanted this, remember?

So why did she still feel so out of place?

“There are a great deal of issues we must look at more closely,” Windu acknowledged, “Now that we’ve uncovered the truth. This is but one of many.”

She frowned. “I understand, Master. I simply think that this matter is extremely urgent. In the worst case scenario, Jedi lives may be at stake.”

“At stake they are already, without question,” Yoda said. “If acquitted the Chancellor is. Focus on that for now, we must.”

“But what if it’s all related?” Ahsoka reasoned.

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka,” Shaak Ti pitched in, “But I agree with Master Yoda. Though I assure you as soon as is possible I will do what I can to look into your claims.”

Frowning, Ahsoka nodded, knowing there was little more she could do to persuade them and honestly lacking the motivation to try. “Thank you, Master. You would set my mind at ease.” She hesitated. “Masters…what happens if Palpatine _is_ acquitted?”

They shared some dark looks amongst themselves, and she knew without question that either they didn’t have an answer or weren’t willing to give her one if they did. 

“Skywalker’s testimony failed to convince the Senate that Palpatine is a Sith,” Windu said. Yes, Ahsoka had watched that too, and it was one of the many things that had continued to fuel her passion for uncovering this truth and bringing it to the Council now. “Even among those that believe he may be, few seem to find it relevant or compelling evidence of treason.”

“You had the authority to arrest him, though,” Ahsoka said carefully. “Surely you can override the Senate’s decision?”

“We recently lost much of our political leverage,” said Master Plo. “I fear our influence grows less by the day.”

“Leave it to us, young one,” Yoda said with finality. “Decide what is best, we will. Let the Order fall, we will not.”

Just another answer that wasn’t really an answer. For _that_ was the Jedi way.

Ahsoka sighed internally. She really must stop thinking things like that in front of the Council. Or, y’know, at all. Because this was what she wanted. It was.

She was just about to turn around and leave when an alarm sounded on the comm console and she watched Windu reflexively press a button, wondering if she should stay or not. When she recognized Obi-Wan’s voice, however — she figured she could hang around for just a moment more…that _was_ her grandmaster, after all....

And Obi-Wan said, then, in these words, his voice laden with just a hint of urgency:

_“Emergency. I need a medical team down here right away. There is something wrong with the Chancellor.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooooooooooooooh
> 
> the “would take on your burdens if I could” thing is from one of the Jedi Quest novels, never actually read ‘em but that quote bruh
> 
> by the way, incidentally, next chapter is 7k+ words long. popcorn is recommended 😬🍿🔜 see you next weekend 😘


	14. karma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Skywalkers send their regards

In the mid-afternoon on the third day after Anakin’s failed attempt at testifying, Obi-Wan popped in again to see him.

“Just checking in,” he said with a smile, coming over to peek down into the bassinet at the twins. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know,” Anakin said through a yawn, too exhausted to get up and greet him. “Drained, sleep-deprived, depressed. The usual.”

“Have you slept at all?”

“Enough that I’m not dead.”

Obi-Wan nodded distantly. “I can’t stay long. Guard duty tonight.”

That was just as well, honestly, because Anakin could barely keep his eyes open, let alone hold a conversation. He yawned again. “Which Sith?”

“Palpatine,” Obi-Wan said absentmindedly, still watching the twins. “I don’t expect it shall be eventful.” 

“Great. Ask him to stop sending me visions of my family’s demise, will you?”

Despite the situation, Obi-Wan chuckled. “I’ll pass it along.” There was a pause, before he said, “Can I hold him?”

“Of course,” Anakin said tiredly, slumped back in his seat as Obi-Wan leaned over and scooped Luke into his arms.

The twins were starting to babble, and Luke did as much to Obi-Wan now, looking in the direction of his face. Obi-Wan looked down at him and said softly, “Hello there.”

Anakin watched them, taking in the way his master gazed fondly down at the infant in his arms, and suddenly Anakin registered a profound sense of calm and contentment coming from Obi-Wan in the Force. “You know, that’s a good look for you.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. He laughed, and Luke giggled along with him. “Oh no, I think I’m more the uncle type, don’t you?”

“Eccentric old Uncle Obi-Wan?” Anakin said. “I like it.”

“So do I. All the fun and none of the responsibility,” Obi-Wan teased.

“Have you ever thought about it, though?” Anakin said. “Being a father?”

“I don’t think it’s the life for me,” Obi-Wan said, and he did not seem bothered by this. 

“You’d be good at it. You basically were one to me.”

Obi-Wan’s smile inverted to a small frown. “You’ve said that before. Though I have to confess I always thought of you as more of a younger brother.” There was silence for a moment before he added, “Maybe that’s where I went wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just think maybe you needed someone that thought of themselves the way you thought of me,” Obi-Wan said distantly, looking down at Luke. “A father type. A Qui-Gon Jinn type. Or, Qui-Gon himself.”

“I do miss Qui-Gon,” Anakin admitted. “But you’re the master I had, and the master I wanted.” He paused, and looked away. “But you didn’t want me.”

He felt Obi-Wan’s eyes on him. “Anakin,” he said. “I _did_ want you.”

“I was an obligation to you,” Anakin replied, and he wasn’t even angry about this. He was too tired to feel anything at all. “You said it first. You said I was dangerous.”

Obi-Wan came over to sit next to him, still holding Luke in his arms. “Anakin, I was young and foolish. I said some stupid things that I have come to regret dearly. You know how that feels.”

“You were older than I am now.”

His master sighed. “Our experiences of young adulthood were very different, I’m afraid. I may have been older than you are, but I hadn’t been through half of the things you have. There was no war, no undercover Sith Lord whispering things into my ear. At the time, I thought I knew everything. I insisted I was ready to be a Jedi Knight. Sufficed to say, I was not ready. When I say that you should have had a better master than me, that doesn’t mean I regret training you. Quite the opposite in fact.”

Anakin nodded dully. “I’m not trying to argue,” he said. “I don’t know why I brought it up.” Save it for therapy, he told himself, but truthfully therapy was making him feel worse by the session. ‘It gets worse before it gets better’ was such an understatement. Or maybe it was just how sleepy he was.

“No, I’m glad that you did,” Obi-Wan said. “This is a conversation I think we’ve needed to have for a long time. Anakin, training you was the single best decision I have ever made. I would not be who I am if not for you.”

Closing his eyes, leaning his head back against the top of the sofa, Anakin said, “It was all for nothing though.”

“It was not,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Anakin, I don’t care if you left the Jedi. If you had wanted to do that when you were fifteen, or twelve, or ten, I would have supported you. Truthfully I’ve always suspected it would come one day. And although I’m incredibly proud of the work you did, my pride is not dependent on you being a Jedi now. I don’t care about your accomplishments, I care about _you_.”

There was a long pause in which Anakin ignored the tear slipping out of the corner of his eye. That…those words….

That was all he had ever wanted to hear.

Not that he didn’t already know it. He did. It was one of a long list of things that he understood rationally as a fact, yet hung before him in a weird, intangible web of confusing truths he was not yet ready to come to terms with. Par for the course, really. Same as usual.

Force. He was so tired.

It was quiet for a moment until Leia made a little noise, and Anakin used it as an excuse to get up, wiping the tear off his cheek before scooping her up and sitting back down with her in his lap, tummy facing down. She hated being on her tummy, but Jobal said it was necessary for them to develop their neck and back muscles, and if there was only one thing left in this galaxy that Anakin could actually control it was making sure that his twins grew up happy and safe and healthy and far more well-adjusted than he had ever been.

That was all he wanted, really. He wanted Luke and Leia to have the life he missed out on. Family and love and emotional support and food and water and safety and an absolute, definite lack of Sith Lords dripping poison into their ears.

In the long term, anyway. In the short term, he wanted Obi-Wan not go to off to stupid guard duty, guarding the stupid person that had dripped that stupid poison into his stupid ears. But he couldn’t have everything.

Obi-Wan flipped Luke over onto his tummy as well and for a while they stayed that way, playing gently with the twins, their only words directed at the kids because Anakin thought if he said another word about his emotions right now he would lose control and not ever be able to find it again. It was a nice time, and joy and contentment continued to radiate from Obi-Wan in the Force, happier than Anakin had felt in a long time even though he had joy and contentment flopped belly-down on his lap right now, his angelic little princess Leia and all her stubborn dissatisfaction with being forced to self-improve. 

Maybe she would be the one to take after him. Though, all things considered, Anakin hoped both of them took after Padmé in all the ways that mattered most.

Soon enough, Leia kicked up more of a fuss and could not be made to stop, so he and Obi-Wan sat her back down with Luke and then stood for a minute, facing each other.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “I’d best be off.”

Anakin nodded miserably. “I’ll be here…come by tomorrow?”

“I’ll try,” Obi-Wan replied, looking away as he said it and then back at him. He paused. “May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you, Master,” Anakin said glumly.

And then, to Anakin’s great surprise (if slightly dulled by sleep-deprivation) Obi-Wan stepped forward and pulled him into a warm, loving embrace. Snaked one arm around Anakin’s back and wove the other hand into Anakin’s hair. It was nice, and it also the second hug they’d had in the last week, and Anakin returned it gratefully, but for some reason it felt off....

“Are you okay, Obi-Wan?”

“I love you, Anakin,” his master whispered unexpectedly into his ear. “It will be all right.” 

Anakin had absolutely no idea what to make of that. After a time, Obi-Wan withdrew the hug, but his hands lingered on Anakin’s arms for a moment in a bracing grip and his master looked at him as if soaking in his features, as if looking upon him for the last time.

Anakin said, “I love you, too, but you’re freaking me out.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Sorry. I’ll make sure not to be too affectionate from now on.”

“In a good way, I mean,” Anakin said, laughing despite himself.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said again. His hands fell to his sides. “Off to business, I suppose.”

“Right,” Anakin said, getting the impression that his master didn’t want to leave. “See you.”

“Soon, I hope,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, before turning and leaving the apartment. And Anakin still got this weird, nagging feeling that something was up, but — oh well. Must just be his sleep-deprived paranoia again. That was becoming normal for him it seemed.

Time for a nap, maybe, he thought with a yawn. Doing nothing was really all he had the energy for.

* * *

Nearly fourteen years after the fact, Obi-Wan could still recall with surprising ease how his first ever actual conversation with Anakin had gone.

He had just finished heaving his master’s body back to the main hangar of the Theed Palace, out of that horrid reactor core chamber, all ninety kilos of Qui-Gon slung over his shoulders. He’d surrendered the body to some of Queen Amidala’s men, thinking their presence in the hangar must mean the battle was over…he’d been so distracted, Qui-Gon’s final request ringing in his ears, that he’d barely noticed his surroundings as he searched for his new charge.

He remembered trying not to think: _Have you no final words for me, Master? Only of the boy?_

Obi-Wan had found him climbing down the ladder of one of the yellow Naboo starfighters and approached him slowly, rehearsing in his head what he was going to say and how he was going to say it, for recounting the last hour of his life was naturally the very _last_ thing he wanted to do at all....

And a very selfish part of him, the same part that had been hurt by Qui-Gon’s insistence in the Council chamber that he would take Anakin on as a Padawan despite having one already, didn’t want to have to do this at all. A self-centered, mentally exhausted part of him wanted not to have to comfort this foreign child when Obi-Wan thought the one most deserving of comfort was himself.

But he would do as he had said. If that was what Qui-Gon had wanted, had believed in, then Obi-Wan would see it done. After everything Qui-Gon had done for him over the years, how could he say no?

And he could, Obi-Wan thought as he approached the boy. He _could_ say no. He didn’t _have_ to do this. No one else knew what Qui-Gon had asked of him. No one _needed_ to know.

But Obi-Wan was going to do it anyway.

Because it was what Qui-Gon wanted.

It was as simple as that. At least, it was if he let it be.

He was close now, and the boy — Anakin — spun around on his heel (was he so sensitive to the Force he could feel Obi-Wan coming, even with no training?) and stood at attention like a military cadet who was clearly trying to hide something. “Oh,” he said. “Hi.”

Suddenly Obi-Wan became aware of a strong smell of exhaust and space surrounding the area of the fighter from which the boy — no, _Anakin_ — had climbed out of. He looked between the child and the ship in confusion. “Were you flying?”

“Well…,” Anakin said, drawing out the sound, squirming on his feet. “Yes — but it was an accident! I didn’t mean to do it, I swear!”

_Huh? What?_ “An accident?”

Suddenly the boy — _Anakin!_ — launched into a tirade. “All I was trying to do was help Padmé — I mean, Queen Amidala — there were all these droids with shield generators blocking their path so I tried to find the blasters on the fighter to help them but then I pressed the wrong button and it started flying and it was on autopilot and then suddenly I was in space and there was this giant ship and all the other fighters were attacking it so I tried to help out, but then I ended up in a hangar full of droids because the engines on the fighter were overheating, so I tried lifting off but then I pressed the wrong button again and accidentally used these cannons or torpedoes or something and then the giant ship blew up and we got out of there and it was _awesome_ —”

Baffled, Obi-Wan put out a hand to try to stop him. “Hold on — you blew up the droid control ship?”

Anakin’s eyes widened. “Was that not okay?”

“No, it was, but — _you_ did that?”

“Uh-huh,” Anakin affirmed bashfully. “Well, me _and_ Artoo.” The astromech beside him spun its dome and sounded a cheery noise.

Obi-Wan had been completely speechless, just staring down at Anakin with his mouth agape, and it was only once Anakin had spoken next that Obi-Wan remembered why he was there.

“Where is Master Qui-Gon? Is he okay?”

Ah. Yes. Er — no. Obi-Wan knelt down to be closer to Anakin’s height, and by the time he was kneeling he could already tell that Anakin must have picked up on the change in mood. Obi-Wan decided to cut to the chase.

“Anakin…,” he said, and it might have been the first time he said the boy’s name. “Qui-Gon is dead.”

Obi-Wan had never delivered that sort of news to a nine-year-old before, and had expected a bit more of a reaction than a slight falling of the face and a lowering of the head. In the Force the boy was sad, yes, terribly so, but outwardly he barely showed signs of reacting — until, that was, Obi-Wan paid more attention to his eyes. Abruptly, he realized: _he has seen death before, and more than once. This boy is no stranger to death_.

He frowned. Just what sort of a life had this child had?

“Was it that — that man?” Anakin said after a minute. Obi-Wan nodded jerkily, not trusting himself to speak. “Where is he now? Will he still come after us?”

“No, he is dead as well,” Obi-Wan said quietly, and he then decided it would not be a good start to their relationship if he were to sugarcoat anything that had happened. “I killed him.”

Anakin’s eyes widened the slightest bit in comprehension, and he nodded and said no more.

Not really wanting to talk, either, Obi-Wan just tried to summon his inner Qui-Gon despite the very thought of doing so ripping and tearing at his heart. After a moment he said, “I do not know what’s going to happen, Anakin, but…I will look after you. Don’t worry.”

Anakin blinked at him. “I wasn’t worried about me,” he said. “What about you? He was your mentor, right? Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan stared. This child, this little boy, ignoring his own obvious pain, which Obi-Wan could feel from him in the Force like a deafening, cataclysmic storm — just to comfort him. Qui-Gon had told him that Anakin was selfless and instinctively thought of the welfare of others over himself, but to see it actually demonstrated in such an honest way, for some reason, shocked Obi-Wan to his core.

He shook off his unease. “I will be with time,” Obi-Wan said, trying to sound sage-like. “Thank you.”

There was a moment of silence between them, and Obi-Wan stood, brushing dust off his knees. He raised his hands for a moment in sort of a half-shrug. “For now, I suppose you’d best just stick with me. We’ll figure everything out.”

Anakin nodded slowly, and then said, “…Do you know if Pa— if the queen is okay?”

A few days later, there they were. Anakin was officially his Padawan, suddenly garbed in Jedi tunics far more pristine and white than his ratty desert ones. He looked like he felt out of place. He probably did, from what Obi-Wan could tell.

He certainly did more and more as time went on.

The first year might have been the hardest. It was culture shock for the both of them, certainly. Obi-Wan was a man who felt younger than his years, who had lost the person closest to him so suddenly, whose peers were off on their own as Jedi Knights without obligation besides that to the Order. Anakin was a child from outside the Republic’s borders, who couldn’t read Basic and longed desperately for his mother, a relationship form that Obi-Wan had never experienced and struggled to understand. The two of them together had felt terribly odd and mismatched, at first, and it was like the ghost of Qui-Gon lingered between them as a sort of barrier. Or maybe that was simply Obi-Wan’s perception of it. He supposed he could always ask Anakin if he had felt the same.

The beginning months were full of barebones lessons in the Force, reading exercises, basic things like learning to swim, learning about the galaxy. A lot of doctor’s appointments, for vaccinations and the like. Obi-Wan still remembered how he had felt when the Jedi doctors told him Anakin was malnourished. The pang in his gut he first saw the scars on the boy’s body, some of them faded and some of them far too fresh. The ache in Obi-Wan’s heart when Anakin had asked him if he could get his deactivated slave detonator chip removed from his body.

How difficult it had been to explain why the Jedi could not form attachments, to a boy that wore his love for his mother as a badge of pride.

Obi-Wan remembered how little Anakin understood about the way of life that had always been so intuitive to himself. Anakin had to be told to bathe because showers were unfamiliar to him, had to be reminded that food and water were not scarce here and he didn’t need to gorge himself if he couldn’t finish a meal. Obi-Wan also remembered the first time Anakin had flinched away from him because of the way Obi-Wan had moved his arm, and how hard it had been to help Anakin understand that no one here was ever, ever going to lay a hand on him at any point.

Looking back, there were a lot of things Obi-Wan thought in hindsight that he should have addressed more insistently. Anakin had been convinced, though he had never said so verbally, that if he did poorly in his lessons he would be sent away. If he got a bad grade, or couldn’t understand something fast enough, then the Jedi wouldn’t want him. Obi-Wan had tried to convince him that wasn’t true, but in retrospect he wasn’t sure he’d done nearly enough to make Anakin understand it. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure Anakin understood that even now. _Always on the move_ , Obi-Wan had always teased, but in retrospect he thought perhaps there was a _reason_ for that. Anakin had thought he needed to be perfect, needed to always be doing something productive. Anakin had never really learned how to relax.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he himself knew how to relax, either, sometimes.

And all the while, lingering over them was that unspoken but ever-present existence of some prophecy thought up hundreds or thousands of years ago, applied to this young and far from innocent child from Hutt Space. They almost never talked about it, but it was always there. It was the thing that had brought them together, the reason Qui-Gon had worked so hard to bring Anakin here and convince the Council to break their traditions and train him. It was, allegedly, the reason for Anakin’s very existence in this physical plane. It was something that always brought to Anakin great misery and pressure, and to Obi-Wan great insecurity and obligation.

_I was an obligation to you._

That had been true, at one point. Obi-Wan could not deny it. But it was also an oversimplification, and it was something that was definitely _not_ true anymore.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure when it had happened…couldn’t recall what had made him change his mind, or how old Anakin had been, but suddenly this commitment was no longer about his promise to Qui-Gon. His master was gone, his ashes likely disintegrated by now, his words but a memory. No, suddenly his promise was no longer to his mentor, but to his Padawan. To Anakin. Suddenly it was no longer about making his late master proud, but rather about doing right by this child entrusted to him. Suddenly it was about being the best master he could be to Anakin, _for_ Anakin. Because Anakin deserved it, for his own sake.

Anakin, Obi-Wan had always thought, deserved so much. And mostly, Anakin deserved a better master than Obi-Wan could ever be.

It was supposed to be Qui-Gon. It was _always_ supposed to be Qui-Gon. The Force itself had willed it to be so. Obi-Wan wasn’t the one who had found Anakin in that junk shop, Qui-Gon was. Qui-Gon believed in Anakin, trusted him with their fate in a gambling match, saw things in Anakin from the beginning that Obi-Wan had been unable to, at first. Qui-Gon _knew_ how to train a Padawan, had experience, had wisdom which Obi-Wan had yet to acquire. Qui-Gon was the master that Anakin needed, Obi-Wan had always thought in his darkest moments. Qui-Gon would have done such a better job. Qui-Gon should never have died that day. It should have been him instead _._

At least, that was what Obi-Wan had used to think. Still did, sometimes, but he was self-aware enough now to understand that that simply wasn’t how things worked. But yes: more than once, over the years, Obi-Wan had thought it should’ve been him that was struck down by Maul on Naboo. It should have been him dead on the ground with a lightsaber wound through his heart, and Qui-Gon who had lived to train Anakin. It had all happened wrong. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair to Qui-Gon, or to Anakin.

…But eventually, as Obi-Wan had begun to master himself and gain better control, he had begun to realize…such thoughts were unproductive. Weak. Again, oversimplified. And if he _was_ going to be the master that Anakin needed, he must do away with them.

So, he did.

So he began to let go. So he finally accepted the need to let Qui-Gon’s memory live while not holding onto the past. So he had begun the journey of reminding himself that he might likewise need to let go of Anakin, someday, if it became necessary, as much as he hoped it never would be.

And that very necessity, as time went on, had become leagues harder to deal with than the concept of letting go of Qui-Gon had ever been. As time went on, and Anakin grew up, grew taller, grew in the Force, Obi-Wan slowly began to realize that letting go, if it would ever be required of him, would be a greater challenge than anything Obi-Wan had ever done. Than even training Anakin in the first place.

Obi-Wan had to admit, Anakin’s presence in the Force was nothing short of astounding. All-consuming. Overwhelming, sometimes. His apprentice shone as brightly as the twin suns of Tatooine did from the planet’s surface, and had the potential to burn just as much as those suns had burned Obi-Wan’s fair complexion. _The boy is dangerous_ , he had told Qui-Gon. _Great danger I sense in his training_ , Yoda had said after Qui-Gon had died. And for a while, Obi-Wan had thought it was true. But then, as they were growing together, learning from each other, Obi-Wan suddenly hadn’t thought that anymore. Suddenly, he realized, the danger only came from within, and if he could teach his apprentice proper control then they would have nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about at all.

And then. _He_ had come along.

Actually, he had always been there. The Naboo Senator turned Supreme Chancellor. Obi-Wan’s first interaction with Palpatine had been the same as Anakin’s. Being thanked by the man on Naboo, a polite remark by a politician and little more than that. Or so he had thought. Or so Obi-Wan had always convinced himself, even years later, when the intergenerational friendship had progressed and sometimes it seemed like Anakin worshiped the ground that Palpatine walked on more than he worshiped even the Force itself.

It really, truly had seemed like nothing exceedingly odd, at first. When talking with Palpatine, Obi-Wan had never found the man to be anything but simply pleasant. His general dislike of politicians aside, as a man Palpatine had seemed to be nothing more than what Anakin had always said he was: a very nice, kind old man who just wanted some companionship. Who, perhaps, wanted to be a grandfather and had never had the chance. Anakin had needed companionship, too, though as his master Obi-Wan would have preferred those companions to be other children of Anakin’s own age…and Anakin did make a few friends here and there, but it was never anything extremely notable. Anakin never had a _best_ friend his own age. Anakin had always been more interested in the adults. 

That in itself wasn’t odd either, Obi-Wan had always thought. Anakin was wise beyond his own years, a result of his horrible upbringing. He simply didn’t connect with other children. He had so little in common with them, or so he felt like. It was unfortunate, but one could not force friendship. So when Anakin and Palpatine’s had seemed to spring up so naturally, who was Obi-Wan to try to stop it, no matter how uneasy it made him feel sometimes?

Obi-Wan remembered the first time Palpatine had asked to see Anakin in private. The Chancellor had put the request through the Council, simply saying that he would like to better know the boy that had saved his planet only a few years prior. It had been a little unusual, and Obi-Wan wasn’t thrilled about it, but the Council wanted to maintain good ties with the Chancellor and Anakin had been willing to go, perhaps had even wanted to....

And that was that. A solid, if unlikely, friendship forming between his Padawan and the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Senate. A mentorship of sorts, and Obi-Wan didn’t absolutely _love_ that idea, but it was true of the Jedi way that it was important to gain wisdom from all walks of life, from multiple sources.... Maybe it would be good for Anakin, Obi-Wan had convinced himself, to make a friend _outside_ of the temple, when he seemed so unable to make friends _inside_. Maybe it would be healthy. 

And it had seemed to be, for a long time. Anakin had grown to share Obi-Wan’s dislike for politicians (save two — they each liked two) so Obi-Wan thought — again, _at first_ — that the two unlikely friends must not have been speaking much of politics in private. And if his friendship with Palpatine made Anakin happy, then so be it. So Obi-Wan would see Anakin off every now and then to go have lunch. Or, if the Chancellor needed a Jedi bodyguard, Anakin would go. If Anakin was having a rough time, he would see the Chancellor. Obi-Wan was fine with this. He was. He never expected Anakin to tell him _everything_ , the same way that he himself did not tell Anakin _everything_. But they told each other the things that mattered, Obi-Wan had always thought. Anakin trusted him, and that was all that mattered.

And then…it had all come crashing down.

Obi-Wan had practically begged the Council not to fall in line with Palpatine’s plans. Assigning Anakin to the Council, but only halfway. Asking Anakin, through Obi-Wan, to spy on Palpatine. Obi-Wan had _begged_ , saying they didn’t understand, that he knew this was a conflict of galactic scale but that this would make Anakin lose faith in them utterly and completely. And the way Obi-Wan had seen it, after everything that had happened in the last few years, after the war and the Hardeen incident and Ahsoka’s trial, the Council _needed_ to keep Anakin’s trust. And, he’d said, if they did this thing, this thing that Anakin would perceive as treasonous and unfaithful to his other mentor, they would lose that trust forever. And as usual — as it usually happened when Anakin was involved, anyway — they had not listened.

All right. Maybe that wasn’t fair. Obi-Wan had great, great faith in the Council. He did. He absolutely did. They were wise, caring, compassionate. They were strong, devoted, steadfast. Obi-Wan admired and respected every member of their ranks. He truly did. But right now, here, at the end of the universe, when it came to this absolute mess involving them and Palpatine and Anakin and this sham of a trial — right now, being wise, caring and compassionate was not enough. Right now, they were fighting a losing battle to save a Republic that had been completely restructured to fit the fantastical power trip of one man. 

And right now, Obi-Wan was going to kill that man. Once and for all.

This had all started, for him, _really_ started, the night everything had almost failed. The night Anakin had nearly betrayed him and joined the Sith Order. The night Anakin had intended on saving Palpatine from the Jedi’s arrest by any means necessary. The night Anakin had confessed that he would have been all right with tearing down the walls of the Jedi Temple if it meant saving one woman and one unborn child.

…That was how Anakin recounted the night, anyway. In Obi-Wan’s view, it was the night that Anakin had finally asked him for help. 

And now, Obi-Wan was going to help.

Now, Obi-Wan was going to betray some of his own vows, and uphold some others. He had sworn to protect, and he _would_ protect the Republic, but also would he attack. He had sworn to defend, and murder was no Jedi-worthy form of defense. He had sworn to Qui-Gon that he would help Anakin to bring balance back to the Force, and that he would do, in a way — but he didn’t exactly think even Qui-Gon would approve of the action he was about to take.

For this action was unbefitting of a Jedi Master. This action would be, Obi-Wan had to admit, of the dark side as far as he understood it.

There was a saying about fighting fire with fire, a saying he’d always been told was not the Jedi way. So today, Obi-Wan would not be acting as a Jedi. Nor a Sith. Nor anything, really, but a — a friend. A friend to one whose life had been ruined by this wretched, horrible old man. 

Or — perhaps not just a friend. Perhaps…perhaps Anakin was right. Perhaps this was what a father would do.

Obi-Wan had really, truly never felt like one. But he had to imagine that if a father found out his son had been psychologically manipulated and twisted and poisoned for years upon years upon years, right under their own nose— 

Yes, he thought. Perhaps he would act as the father that Anakin had always seemed to think he was. Just this once.

All of this was what Obi-Wan thought, sitting on guard duty, waiting to enact his plan. 

Guarding the cells of the two Sith Lords held captive in the Jedi Temple was simple. Sitting in a room with a security droid whose job it was to watch the prisoner in the event that anything happened. So efficient were these droids at their job that Obi-Wan was not even obligated to sit and watch the security monitors himself, but simply to be there in the event that the Sith made an attempt to escape, or attack, or anything that needed a Jedi’s intervention. The Council members took it in shifts, as did a small rotation of other powerful Jedi Masters like Aayla Secura or Tera Sinube, a failsafe incase the Sith acted out. After all, a droid could only do so much, and as far as technology had come in millions of years, there were still no droids that could sense the Force.

All of this, Obi-Wan could work with. In fact, he thought, it would all work out very well indeed.

He’d been sitting here, now, for a couple of hours, shifting between simple, light meditation and reading things on the datapad he had brought with him. Glancing occasionally at the time, though not out of boredom. Rather, he anticipating the time that the service droid would come in with Palpatine’s dinner. Then Obi-Wan would have a little surprise for the man. An extra course, one might say. A special treat for him.

On that note — there was one step Obi-Wan had to do before that catering droid arrived, and suddenly the Force told him — do it now.

So he did, and he needed to be careful. For not all of the security cameras were focused on the Chancellor himself, but also there were some on him, as well. A precaution mandated by the courts and the Senate, to ensure no foul play on the part of the Jedi. That was fair enough.

Not to worry, though, Obi-Wan thought. He was well prepared for all aspects of this. He’d been preparing for this for days. And now it was time.

Reaching deep into the Force, fortifying his mental shields so as not to alert the temple guards standing outside the room, Obi-Wan took in his surroundings with his senses. Careful not to make any physical indication, the first thing he did was reach out, reach out, into the cranial dome of the security droid beside him, feeling with the Force an array of wires and servos, interconnecting in an artificial maze of technological advancement…without moving a millimeter, he reached out and the Force gave just the slightest tug of the smallest wire coming off the main processor. Sure enough, the quiet mechanical sound of the droid’s head shifting back and forth in surveillance of the security screens came to a stop as the droid malfunctioned, powering it down.

Good. That was the first step. Hyperconscious of his surroundings, Obi-Wan took a long glance at the holoscreen, then back at the datapad, careful not to make any indication he knew the droid had stopped working. Every movement had to be deliberate and calculating. He needed to consider how he himself would look on camera when this footage was reviewed by droids and Republic officials and Jedi alike…the minutes ticked by, and he continued to glance between the pad in his lap and the security monitor, as if nothing was amiss....

The digital chronometer ticked to eighteen hundred hours. Precisely on time, the door opened to the room he was in, and Obi-Wan nodded at the service droid, still careful not to physically acknowledge in any way the defunct security droid beside him. He pressed a key on the console to let the service droid into the cell, watched on the monitor as the droid entered Palpatine’s room. Obi-Wan released the first ray shield so the droid could walk through, put it back up. Released the second ray shield so the droid could put the food on Palpatine’s cell’s table. The droid started heading back out, and Obi-Wan released and reactivated the rayshields accordingly. The robot came back in this room, and headed out the door. 

Obi-Wan took another moment to watch on the screen, focusing for only the shortest time on the food the Chancellor had been given. A glance was all he needed, and Obi-Wan looked back down at the datapad idly.

It was such a marvel that the Jedi had crafted for themselves generations ago. A room that acted as a one way mirror of the Force. A room into which he could reach inside, but Palpatine could not reach out. It as an ancient technology known, as far as he was aware, only to the Jedi. It was foolproof.

He waited. As if nothing was wrong, Obi-Wan felt Palpatine get up and seat himself before his plate of food. A good meal, if rather uneventful, of protein, vegetables, grains, all the things a human body needed. Obi-Wan could sense it all. He could feel Palpatine’s movements, feel his breath. Feel the beat of his heart, now that he was looking for it. He could feel everything going on inside of that room, see it more clearly in his head than even if he had been watching with his eyes.

He kept waiting. It wasn’t time yet. He would know when it was, but it wasn’t yet.

A minute passed. Then another. The old man was taking his time. That was all well and good, Obi-Wan thought. His fate was inevitable either way.

… _Now_ , the Force told him, and he obeyed. Again he reached out, feeling all around him, seeing through the walls as if they were not there, and sure enough he could feel the man who had nearly taken everything from him just as well as he could sense the disabled droid beside him…wrapping his mental shields around him tight, he could feel the movements of Palpatine’s arm and hear in his mind the clink of the fork as it scraped across the dish…acutely aware, Obi-Wan made sure his eyes flicked back and forth across the datapad screen as he scrolled down the page, appearing to any retroactive onlookers that he was doing some simple reading, when really he was busy feeling, feeling, waiting, for the right moment, the moment to strike —

He could feel it. A chunk of protein, speared onto the prongs of the Sith’s fork. Some kind of steak. It didn’t matter what, because this was it. This was the moment. 

The arm moved, and the fork with it, up to the mouth — wait — in the mouth, a chew or two — wait, wait—

_Now._

—and then, with the help of the Force, directly into the man’s trachea. 

The fork clattered to the ground immediately. Obi-Wan _would have_ heard it, and would not have been able to do this at all, if there was audio coming out of the security monitors. Which Palpatine and Tarkin had insisted there not be.

Truly a shame. For them.

With his full concentration only on this one thing, Obi-Wan could feel it all without even taking a peek at the holocam footage. Palpatine’s hands rose immediately to clutch at his throat as he tried to cough, tried to breathe, and Obi-Wan focused his full attention on keeping the steak lodged in there. A different type of Force choking than he thought the Sith might be used to.

This would take a few minutes, Obi-Wan knew. A minute or two until unconsciousness, and then another few for the man to be beyond saving. He’d not exactly been able to research this topic, for he could allow no data trail that might link him to this crime. This could not be seen as anything more than an accident if Obi-Wan could help it.

Otherwise…he would never be able to see Anakin again. And that simply would not do at all.

And on that note....

Wrapping his mental shields around him as tight as a straight jacket, Obi-Wan could not resist doing what he did next.

He indulged.

Anakin had told him, of course, of what Palpatine had done to him during the trial. How the Sith had transmitted a message directly to him in the Force, the way he’d almost certainly been sending the nightmares that had been plaguing Anakin on and off for months. Well, Obi-Wan thought in a very un-Jedi-like way…two could play at that game.

Staring at his datapad, stroking his beard, Obi-Wan thought loudly, but only loud enough Palpatine to hear, conscious of keeping his psychic message away from the Temple Guards outside or any nearby Jedi:

_I want you to know who it is that’s killing you._

Obi-Wan felt the Chancellor’s head raise toward the holocameras, eyes bulging, waving at it to try to get someone’s attention. 

_You tried to take my Padawan away._

Palpatine was pointing frantically at the holocamera, jabbing his finger into the air in accusation.

_But it seems your efforts have failed._

The old man withdrew his hand and thumped his fist against his chest, to try to dislodge the food stuck in his windpipe.

Obi-Wan thought: _I really must thank you, Chancellor…_

Palpatine was clawing at his throat. Obi-Wan wished he could watch it with his eyes, but he did not need them. The Force showed him everything.

_Anakin and I are closer than ever._

The Chancellor was hunched over himself, trying desperately to breathe. Obi-Wan clicked on a new article on his datapad without really seeing it.

_We owe it all…to you._

Palpatine collapsed. Obi-Wan did not react. His face was still as stone, two of his fingers casually stroking his beard, his eyes scanning over a passage of whatever was on the screen of his datapad, not looking away to any detectable degree....

A minute passed. It would take a few more, he knew, for the man to be beyond saving, oxygen cut off from the brain for just a smidge too long before the medics could arrive. Another minute, and Obi-Wan continued to scroll down the page, nothing amiss in the universe. Into the third minute of Palpatine’s unconsciousness, Obi-Wan casually thought that perhaps he should check the holoscreen, for it would be an absolute shame if the man on the other side of the wall should happen to, say, choke on his food....

Oh, dear! He gasped visibly and jumped up from his seat, his hand slamming down on the emergency medical distress key, speaking into it frantically enough but not so much as to implicate him in any crimes he may or may not have just committed—

“Emergency,” Obi-Wan said, his face trained on the holoscreen now, his eyes confirming what the Force had already told him. His heart was pounding a little more than he would like to admit. He said, “I need a medical team down here right away, there’s something wrong with the Chancellor—”

And what an absolute _pity_ that was.


	15. are you satisfied?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell Cersei……………I want her to know it was me
> 
> also before you read this chapter just keep in mind that Anakin is still very sleep-deprived LOL

Anakin was helping Jobal finish up dinner, chatting with her about something meaningless, when he realized the Force felt kind of…strange. Kind of…airy? As if leaving a hot and humid planet and turning on the climate control of the starship. It was like…he could _breathe_ , but he hadn’t realized he wasn’t able to before. It was refreshing. It was…good.

And because it was good, it was also very, very odd.

The Force hadn’t felt good in…years, maybe. Anakin wasn’t sure it ever had, at least not since he’d first come to understand the feelings that he’d always had growing up, that no one else on Tatooine had ever seemed able to relate to. In fact, the Force felt so good and pure and calm in that moment, that Anakin wasn’t sure he’d realized how very bad and heavy and thick it had always been. 

Something had happened. He didn’t know what, but he figured he would find out eventually, and he was still really sleep-deprived so he couldn’t rule out that it _wasn’t_ a hallucination…oh well. Best not worry about it for now.

So he didn’t. They finished up dinner and sat down to eat it with Padmé, who had just given the twins their own meal. Exhausted, he poked at his dinner opposite Padmé and Jobal, too tired to join into their conversation, and then suddenly he realized his comm was blinking.

It was Ahsoka, he saw, and if it had been anyone besides her and Obi-Wan he would have ignored the call in favor of his family, but Padmé told him to go ahead so he did, and soon as he pressed the key Ahsoka was already launching into a whole tirade, saying something along the lines of:

“ _Anakin you need to get over here right now something’s happened with Palpatine and Obi-Wan and I don’t know what just get over here hurry—”_

_“_ Okay, okay, Snips, I’m coming,” he said, suddenly feeling more awake than he’d been in days. His heart was pounding and he didn’t know why. He took one glance at Padmé, who nodded at him with widened eyes, before tearing over to the turbolift, into a speeder, and across the skyways of Coruscant over to the temple, going faster than was safe and just about ready to dismantle any police droid that tried to pull him over—

When he landed in the temple, in that same hangar where his friends had stopped him from doing something catastrophically stupid, Anakin called Ahsoka back on the comm and she yelled, _“Come to the detention cells!”_ So he did, running as fast as his legs would take him, through familiar corridors, weaving between Jedi and droids and Padawans until he was deep inside the temple, Forcing the turbolift doors open because they were just a second too slow, until finally he saw Ahsoka in the distance and rushed up to her. 

“Palpatine is dead!” she said to him, looking up at him with a shocked expression. _What?_ he thought. “They think Obi-Wan did it!”

“What?” he repeated numbly, and speechlessly she just pointed further down the hall and he spotted—

“Obi-Wan!” he shouted, moving down the hall where his master stood with Yoda, Windu, Master Mundi and four of the temple guards, whose dual bladed yellow lightsabers were ignited. “What is this? What’s going on?”

“Skywalker, step back,” Windu said, holding out his hand, palm facing toward Anakin. He took a step in between Anakin and the crowd of Jedi.

Then Anakin took in the sight of cuffs around Obi-Wan’s wrists, and suddenly he found he was shaking. “What’s happening? What are you doing?”

“This is a Jedi matter,” Windu said coolly. “Anakin, walk away.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Anakin shouted in his face, feeling his face contort into a snarl. It seemed suddenly like there was a reddish haze over everything, or perhaps it was just the blood rushing into his head. “Let him _go!_ ”

“Time for this it is not, Skywalker,” Yoda warned. “Talk later we will. For now, go.”

All he could see was red now. “I’m not going _anywhere_ ,” Anakin spat, “Until you let him _go._ ”

“Let me talk to him,” Obi-Wan’s voice said calmly, and it was the only thing that didn’t sound distorted and wrong. Eyeing Anakin, Windu took a step to the side and nodded at the guards, who pulled their lightsabers back toward them. Obi-Wan took one step forward. “Anakin, look at me.”

Anakin did, suddenly shaking so badly he could barely keep his gaze focused. He looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes, which were hard and stern. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan said again, his voice gentler than his gaze, “Listen to me. It’s okay. I’m fine. This will sort itself out, all right? Don’t do _anything_. Do you understand me?”

“But—”

“For the second time in your life, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, as if from the opposite end of a tunnel. “Listen to me. _Promise_ me.”

He swallowed hard. He was so angry, so so angry, and all he could think in that moment was that he should have done it, he should have slaughtered these people when he had the chance, he should have killed them all, that way he wouldn’t have to do it right now to free his master, his best friend in the entire galaxy in this uncomfortably familiar scene that reminded him of when Ahsoka—

“Anakin!”

…But Obi-Wan wouldn’t want that. Obi-Wan was the one who had saved him in the first place, Obi-Wan was in trouble, Obi-Wan loved him, he had said so barely a few hours ago, and Anakin wasn’t going to let anything happen to him, wasn’t going to let anyone touch him, _Obi-Wan_ —

“Promise me.”

Anakin took a heavy breath. He swallowed again, but his throat was too constricted to speak, so all he could do was just nod jerkily. 

Obi-Wan nodded back at him. “It will be all right,” he said again, and suddenly the guards were leading him away with Master Mundi down the hall and out of sight. He was gone.

In a low voice, Anakin said, “Where are you taking him?”

“That is not your concern,” Windu said, staring at him alongside Yoda. “Anakin, you need to leave. Now.”

From beside him, Ahsoka’s voice said, “Can you at least tell us why you think he did it?”

Windu glanced down at Yoda, then back at them. “The Chancellor was found dead from apparent lack of oxygen, and the security droid working with Obi-Wan was found switched off. Those circumstances alone are enough to implicate Obi-Wan. That is all you need to know.”

“That’s it?” Anakin said bitterly. “And you assume he’s guilty, just like that? Just like you did with Ahsoka?”

“Anakin—”

“Are you going to do it again?” Anakin spat, feeling like he couldn’t catch his breath. His breathing came in great angry gulps of air that did nothing to slow his heart rate. There was a small tugging sensation on his right arm, but he ignored it. “Are you gonna abandon Obi-Wan like you abandoned Ahsoka when she needed you the most? Gonna assume he’s guilty and give him a fake trial like you did her? Because you were too cowardly to stand up to the Republic for one of your own? The way you were too cowardly to ask me to spy on Palpatine yourselves, so you made Obi-Wan do it for you because you knew I wouldn’t say no?”

He didn’t know whose voice said “Anakin—” this time because he just kept going and barely heard it.

“Obi-Wan is the only one of you who ever treated me like I belonged here and now you’re just going to lock him up without a second thought? Why? Because he’s the one who trained me, your failure of a Chosen One? You never trusted me and now you don’t trust him, either, is that it? Is everything Palpatine said about you right after all? That you don’t care about the Republic, you only care about yourselves? And that you _definitely_ never cared about me?!”

The tugging on his arm grew stronger, and Anakin faintly recognized two small hands on his bicep. “You made me do all your dirty work for you and I had to face all the consequences!” he said, jabbing his finger into his chest for emphasis. He could feel himself becoming _emotional_ , the worst possible thing he could ever be in the views of the two men he was yelling at from behind the strange red filter that was growing stronger and stronger as his words grew more strained. “I looked up to you! I wanted to be one of you! I tried _so hard_ , I studied and practiced and trained but it was never enough because I was too _kriffing_ emotional! And because I was too close to the Chancellor, right? But _you’re_ the one who let me get close to him in the first place! You let him have access to me and then blamed me for it! You let him _groom_ me!”

“Anakin!” exclaimed a voice, and suddenly Ahsoka was in front of him, and both her hands were on either of his shoulders, holding tight. And suddenly, like snapping out of a trance, the red filter faded from his vision and he realized where he was, and only half-realized what he had just said. He looked around, and all there was was blank silver hallways with high ceilings, Ahsoka in front of him, and over her montrals he could see Windu and Yoda standing together, staring at him with almost expressionless faces. Yoda was shaking his head.

“C’mon,” Ahsoka said, and he let her manually turn him around and then take his arm and lead him away.

Silently she walked with him for a while, and it took a minute in his furious haze to realize they’d gotten to the hangar, and then over to a speeder, and then she was motioning for him to get in....

It wasn’t until they were safely flying away from the temple that Anakin really felt himself cool down, and when that finally happened he realized abruptly that this whole time Palpatine had been _dead_ , Anakin’s longtime friend and mentor and psychological abuser was really actually permanently deceased — and he hadn’t even paid it a passing thought.

His only thoughts had been for Obi-Wan.

Well, he supposed distantly, staring out at the darkening Coruscant skyline without really seeing it… that had to be progress, right?

* * *

Mace and Yoda arrived at Obi-Wan’s holding cell a few hours after he’d been delivered there. Watching them come in through security, Obi-Wan mustered all the tranquility he could and remained in his seat, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, as if this were simply another Council session.

“I hope Anakin didn’t give you too much trouble,” Obi-Wan said casually. “Sleep deprivation makes him act out a bit.”

“Obi-Wan,” Mace said darkly, almost scolding. “You know this does not look good.”

“Oh, I quite agree,” Obi-Wan replied calmly. “By all accounts I’m sure I look like a murderer. But I hope you know I would never do such a thing, not even to my worst enemy.”

“Which some might argue Palpatine was.”

“I was thinking Maul,” Obi-Wan said, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. “But I can see why one would say that.” He looked over the two masters. “Do you believe I did this?”

“Jumping to conclusions, we are not,” Yoda said. “Confident I am that the truth shall reveal itself. Much to consider there is. Analyze the security footage we will.”

“In the meantime, your extradition has already been requested,” Windu said. “Tarkin and his team have called for you to be held in a military facility to offset any potential conspiracies.”

“That’s a good move,” Obi-Wan agreed. “I have no wish to make the Order look more guilty than it already does.”

“Stay long, we cannot,” Yoda said. “Coming soon they are, to retrieve you. Quick we will be to discover the truth, Obi-Wan, but so must we also focus our attention on the Republic.”

“I understand, Master. As you said, I’m sure the truth will come out in time.”

At least, he mused after Mace and Yoda had bade the Force be with him — the narrative truth that Obi-Wan had created for himself. _That_ particular chain of evidence was perfectly all right with him, if he had done his job correctly.

He supposed time would only tell, now.

And now at least Anakin would finally be able to get some sleep.

* * *

Ahsoka hadn’t really had a destination in mind when she took off in a speeder with Anakin — it had all just been a panic of knowing what his anger could do, and knowing that the only way she could deescalate the situation was to simply get him away from it. She wondered if being away from the Jedi made his anger better or worse. One thing she _did_ know for sure was that Obi-Wan was usually the one who kept him calm, and if Obi-Wan was being locked up then sure as stone it was now left up to her and Padmé to stop Anakin from doing anything impulsive and, well, stupid. She wasn’t _really_ sure she was ready for that responsibility, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t try.

She’d also be damned if she wasn’t hungry. So here they were, now, at some diner in the mid-evening. Not Dexter’s, because the food was too greasy and killed her stomach, but a place she liked that served lab-grown meats. Because she may be a carnivore by biology, but she still loved animals. It was a rough trade off.

They didn’t really talk until after ordering their food, when Anakin heaved a gigantic sigh and rested his head in his hand. “I’m sorry, Snips. I went crazy again, I know.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “It’s an emotional situation. But I’m sure Obi-Wan will be all right once they review all the security footage.” Anakin had a funny, concerned look on his face like he didn’t quite agree, and Ahsoka said, “Unless…you don’t think he did it?”

He was frowning. “He’s been acting kind of weird, is all.”

“But he’s _Obi-Wan_ ,” Ahsoka said. “He’s not exactly the type to commit a vengeful murder.” Then she heard what she had just said and winced. “Sorry.”

But he waved it off and said, “No, you’re right. And even if he did do it, I mean…it was _right_ , right?”

“I think so,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if the Republic would see it that way.”

“That’s really what I’m afraid of,” Anakin said. “Of…a repeat.”

She’d been thinking about that, too, of course, but she hadn’t wanted to bring it up. “Can I…can we talk about that?” she asked him. “It doesn’t have to be now, but…sometime?”

“We can talk about it now,” he said, looking as relieved as she felt, probably because of the topic change.

Ahsoka didn’t know where to start. “It’s just that…I still don’t know if coming back was the right choice. I told myself it was what I wanted…I thought maybe I could convince myself that it was. But I don’t think I _do_ want this.”

“Because of what happened?”

She nodded. “I told myself it was in the past. But now I feel like it’s happening again. All of this is reminding me of what happened to me. And I feel bad because I should be thinking about Obi-Wan, and I _am_ , a lot, but…but what if he _was_ framed? What if he’s innocent like I was but then he takes the fall? Is the Council going to abandon him, too, like you said? Or not, because he’s on the Council and I was just a Padawan? _Your_ Padawan!”

“Thinking about yourself doesn’t necessarily make you selfish,” Anakin said. “I don’t think anyone would blame you for how you’re feeling. Tell me about it.”

“Well,” Ahsoka said, “When I was framed, I _knew_ how bad it looked. With the nanodroid factory, and Letta, and Ventress, and the dead clones…but the Jedi never asked me about it. Tarkin told them to turn me over and they did without a second thought. My whole trial really was a fake!” She realized she had never actually said these thoughts aloud before, and she did so with a surprising amount of emotion. “And the whole time I thought they were _all_ against me but now I know Obi-Wan wasn’t. And I still don’t know about Master Plo, but the rest of them, Yoda and Windu and Shaak Ti, they didn’t have faith in me. They just assumed I was guilty and handed off responsibility because they didn’t have the guts to stand up for me to the military! They didn’t give me a chance! So why did I come back?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be with the 501st?”

“I did. And that was great! I feel like fighting is all I know. But the war is over now. There’s not going to _be_ any more fighting. And how messed up is it that I like fighting so much anyway?”

“No, I know what you mean,” he said, leaning back in the diner booth. “On the one hand I hated the war because I had to be away from Padmé. But on the other, it was so much easier sometimes than dealing with the Council was, and often it was better than all the boring diplomatic missions I’d done as a Padawan....”

“I barely got to do any of those boring diplomatic missions,” she said wistfully. “They were always a breath of fresh air.”

“Even though you usually got into trouble on those, too.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Were you and Obi-Wan any different?”

He laughed. “Not by a long shot. Remind me to tell you about Utapau.”

Ahsoka grinned. “Tell me now.”

He shrugged lazily. “We went to investigate a Jedi’s death and ended up crashing a black market arms deal for a gigantic kyber crystal…broke onto a Separatist space station, Grievous was chasing us, blah blah blah, used the crystal to blow up the entire Separatist fleet....” He quirked his eyebrows. “It was pretty fun.”

“So, just a normal day for you two?” Anakin giggled, and nearly choked on his drink. Sobering up, she said, “So what do you think I should do?”

Anakin appeared to think for a moment, going so far as to mimic Obi-Wan’s thoughtful pose, except without the beard. “Okay. So I know I kind of have a habit of making things about myself, and I’m not trying to do that here I swear. But I feel like I kind of gotta take some blame here. When you came to me a while back, asking if I thought you should go back to the Order…I think I said yes for the wrong reasons.”

Oh, wow, she hadn’t expected that. Trying to make light of this dark topic, Ahsoka said, “So therapy’s helping?”

He grinned. “Finally, I guess. But I was afraid that if I said no, you’d vanish off into the galaxy again and I wouldn’t know where you were.”

“I sort of suspected that,” she admitted. “And honestly I wanted to keep tabs on _you_ in turn. But I am sorry for leaving you, you know.”

“Don’t be,” he said, waving it off. “I know I took it personally, and I know you told me _not_ to take it personally…even now I realize I’m still completely incapable of letting go…of you, of Obi-Wan, of Padmé, Luke and Leia…hell, I still haven’t even let go of my mom.”

“Yeah, I never asked,” Ahsoka said carefully. “What happened there? I know you had visions then, too, but that’s it.”

He made a face. “She was kidnapped for a month until I finally acted on my visions and found her. Then she died in my arms and I slaughtered all of her captors in revenge.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “On Tatooine?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing at his eyes with his metal hand, which he then looked at for a long moment. “Then I went straight to Geonosis and got this cut off by Dooku. It was a rough week.” He sighed. “I can’t believe I’m actually talking about this. In retrospect I probably should’ve been in therapy since I came to this miserable planet.”

“Hey,” she said, trying to joke. “This is my home.”

“And I can’t wait to leave it,” Anakin said, leaning back.

“You’re going to Naboo soon, right?”

“Yeah. Well, we were supposed to after the trial ended, but now I’m not going anywhere with Obi-Wan locked up. I can’t believe they’re doing this.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “All I can think about is how I thought he hadn’t stood up for me during my own trial. But now I know he did, and now he’s in a similar situation, and all I can think is I should’ve known better. I know him, I know he wouldn’t do that to me…and I hate saying all this because I don’t want _you_ to worry, and I know you’re closer with him than I’ll ever be, so I’m sure it’s worse for you, but....”

Anakin was nodding along, staring glumly at the table. “Of course I’m worried. _More_ than worried. Honestly I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ve barely slept in — _months_ , now, and —” He ran both hands through his hair and looked at her in a frenzy. “I _rely_ on him, you know? I can’t do anything without him. He puts up with so much of my nonsense and I feel like I don’t appreciate it enough. And the thing is, if something happens to him, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Ahsoka said, “And it’s worse because I know he wouldn’t actually _want_ us to do anything!”

“And he wouldn’t want us to worry.”

“Which is exactly why it’s so hard.”

“Because my conscience stops me from doing anything stupid for him because I know he wouldn’t want me to.”

“ _My_ conscience sounds just like him.”

“So does mine,” Anakin said, with a little laugh. “Drives me crazy. It’s effective, though. Really the only reason I’m still here.”

Ahsoka frowned. “You mean….”

“Instead of being a Sith,” Anakin affirmed, decidedly not meeting her eyes. “Darth Vader.”

“Huh?”

“That was supposed to be my name,” he said, staring off out the window. “Palpatine told me during the trial through the Force. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said, drawing out the sound in comprehension. “I watched it on the holonet with Rex. That’s why you got all spacey?” He nodded distantly. “So…how do you feel now that he’s dead?”

He didn’t answer, and Ahsoka had a feeling that this was as far as his candor was going to go for the day. That was fine, honestly. She was far more used to an Anakin who didn’t share _anything_ than one who was willing to confess to murder and…well, any thoughts he had at all.

Their food came, drawing them both back to reality, and as they dug in Anakin used it as an opportunity to change the subject.

“Ahsoka,” he said, not looking at her. “I miss this. You and me.”

“Me too,” she said. “A _lot_. It feels weird being back here and not being your Padawan.”

He nodded grimly. “I was so excited for you to come back, but then everything happened all at once…then I got so busy with the kids, and I got so stuck inside my own head that I couldn’t really give you the support you needed.”

“I was stuck in my head too, honestly,” she said. “I think, so were Obi-Wan and Padmé.”

“I’m glad you were there that night. All of you.”

“So am I.”

“If you want to leave the Jedi, you should do it. You walked away once, you can do it again.”

Ahsoka poked at her food. “I thought that, too. I just don’t know if it’s right or not.”

He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I can try to give you advice, but I don’t know if I should give it as your Jedi master or as…me.”

She snickered. “I always did think it was funny when you, of all people, lectured me on letting go and keeping a clear head.”

Anakin grinned. “Hey, I knew the rules I was supposed to be enforcing. I know I’m not the best example.”

“You kind of are, though,” she said. “Because you actually know what it’s like. The Council didn’t trust you, either.”

He nodded. “Obi-Wan always taught me to listen to both sides before making a judgement. But the Council didn’t do that with you.”

“They made their decision to expel me before ever talking to me. That drives me insane.”

“Exactly. Like I said that one night, that’s why everything Palpatine ever said made so much sense. Because there was always truth to it. He said the Council didn’t trust me, and they didn’t. And maybe that’s because he made sure of it, but the point still stands. He’s one powerful Sith versus twelve wise Jedi Masters who….”

Ahsoka thought back to what Anakin had furiously yelled at Yoda and Windu earlier. “Neglected you?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know if they actually did, but it feels like it sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I _do_ still have respect for them. I don’t hate them. But…I just....” He trailed off, looking lost.

“It’s okay,” Ahsoka said. “You don’t have to put it into words. I respect the Council, too, to an extent. But I think…I think it’s best if I leave. I want to have a good relationship with them, but now that the fighting is over I think I’d rather just forge my own path.”

He looked proud, and tired. “I could always hire you as a babysitter if you need something to do.”

“Anakin,” she said. “You don’t have any money.”

“You haven’t seen Padmé’s finance accounts,” he said, shaking his head. He whistled. “I still can’t believe that much money exists. You know where I’m from, the currency was people.”

Ahsoka snapped her fingers. “I guess I could do that. Find an end to galactic slavery.”

His face lit up in a grin. “Give me a few years — and two less infants — and I’ll be right there with you, Snips.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have to say I'm so grateful for all of you. Never, except the last chapter of my longfic, have I had the comments go onto two pages (and it happened like 5 hours after posting!! THANK YOU) It was soooooooooooo satisfying writing it all and I've been dying to share that chapter since, like, November lol so bless you all
> 
> And since a couple people asked/commented about it, no I swear on my life I would never allow Papa Palps to come back from the dead in anything I ever write, I promise...I could go off for hours about WHY but you probably don't want to hear it so I will simply leave it there haha as far as I'm concerned people don't come back from the dead in Star Wars (except perhaps the occasional ghost)


	16. can't pin me down

Obi-Wan had heard that solitary confinement tended to drive one rather insane. He’d been in it before quite a few times in his many long years as a Jedi, as Anakin was always quick to joke about. Yes, Obi-Wan seemed somewhat prone to being captured, and solitary wasn’t _exactly_ what this was, but truly this cell was rather cramped and barren, and he had nothing with which to occupy his time.

That was fine, though. All of this was expected, and he was prepared for it. And as long as he had the Force, he was never truly alone.

He’d been transferred to the same military facility in which Ahsoka had been detained, though he rather hoped that there would be no repeat of those particular events this time. But after all, unlike Ahsoka, he most certainly had not been framed. No, no. This was all him.

And Obi-Wan had every intention of pretending otherwise when it finally came time for him to defend himself.

He assumed that he would have to, as who in their right minds would want to defend a man who might have possibly murdered the chief of state? But after an unnumbered amount of days of clueless speculation from the inside of his barren, empty cell, he finally learned that his assumption was actually quite wrong.

For his first visitor save the service droids that delivered food (and the clones that lingered outside his cell when the droids came) was none other than his good friend, Bail Organa, in the flesh.

Obi-Wan stood up to greet him with a large, unexpected smile on his face. As soon as they were alone he said, “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see a human face, though I admit I didn’t expect it to be yours.”

Bail laughed. “Well, someone needs to defend you, don’t they?”

“I’d begun to give up hope anyone remembered I was here at all,” Obi-Wan said jokingly. “How long has it been, anyway?”

“Five days. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, but there was quite a bit of chaos after Palpatine’s death was announced, you see.”

“Goodness,” Obi-Wan said, surprised to hear it. It had begun to feel like weeks, though he had known logically it couldn’t have been. “I guess the Force doesn’t tell time.”

“Unfortunately I will not be able to get you out of here just yet, my friend,” Bail said. “Tarkin is, perhaps unsurprisingly, attempting to do away with the possibility of a trial. Fortunately for us, Republic law hasn’t been forsaken just yet.”

“Speaking of which,” Obi-Wan said darkly. “How have things been on the outside?”

“Obviously the rest of Palpatine’s trial was cancelled,” Bail said. “The Senate has not yet met since the death. Naturally people are jumping to conclusions of conspiracy, but overall I would describe the atmosphere as…numbly shocked.”

“I can’t blame them. I was a little shocked myself, I must admit.”

“On that note,” Bail said, “Tell me what happened from your perspective.”

“It was all very uneventful,” Obi-Wan said. “I went in for my turn to watch the Chancellor, spent most of my time reading. Let the droid in to give Palpatine his dinner and next thing I know, I look up at the security screens and he seemed to have passed out. I didn’t know what happened.”

“Were you aware the security droid had malfunctioned?”

“Not until after I called for the emergency,” Obi-Wan lied. “I’m certain it was working when I first got there. I don’t know when it might have broken down.”

In truth, he had no problem lying to the Jedi, or the Republic, but for some reason it grieved him to have to lie to Bail now. He hoped one day to be able to tell his friend the truth. Frankly, Obi-Wan didn’t think Bail would mind what he had done one bit. But alas, even if their words weren’t being recorded by the Republic military, Obi-Wan did not want to have to force upon his friend a conflict of interests, or compel Bail to lie on his behalf. It wouldn’t be fair. No, Obi-Wan alone would be the one to shoulder this burden, and hopefully one day Bail would forgive him for his deception.

“They’re still going over the security footage,” Bail said. “I’ve taken a look at it and nothing about it seems damning. Tarkin insists otherwise, but it’s being examined by analysis droids and legal experts as we speak. So is the security droid. I should have more information the next time I see you.”

“Do you know the cause of death?”

“The Republic ordered the autopsy be overseen by doctors from multiple sources. I believe it was a collaborative effort by the Jedi and Republic medical. The consensus seems to be that he choked on his dinner.”

Careful not to give anything away, Obi-Wan brought a hand to his beard to look thoughtful. “Interesting. I suppose he was of the age where that’s more of a risk.” He made himself shudder. “Not my ideal way to go, personally.”

“We’re still in the early stages of the investigation,” Bail said. “It might be some time before we get an in-depth analysis of the security footage. Try to be patient, my friend. I will do everything I can, I promise you. After seeing it for myself I believe there are no doubts of your innocence. We _will_ win this.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Thank you, Bail. I feel my defense is in good hands. And — I appreciate it, truly. I’m sure defending me was not a coveted position.”

“Padmé wanted to do it,” Bail replied with a smile. “But we agreed that she’s slightly more biased in your favor. Not to mention I’m trying to get her to take better care of herself.”

“She does need the rest,” Obi-Wan said wistfully. “I don’t suppose you ran into Anakin at all?”

“I haven’t had the chance,” Bail said. “Anything you’d like me to pass along?”

There were a lot of things, but — well. This would have to be enough: “Just tell him I’m all right.”

“Will do,” his friend confirmed. “Anything else I should know that might help in your defense?”

“Nothing in particular comes to mind,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m afraid I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, as it were.”

Bail was watching him with sort of a friendly skepticism. “I have to admit I admire your ability to stay calm in this situation.”

Obi-Wan gave a little shrug and a mysterious smile. “I’m a Jedi. I know who I am, and I am not a murderer. I must trust that the truth will prevail.”

Ah. So he was an outright liar, now. Oh well, he thought. Such were the times they lived in.

* * *

A week after Palpatine’s death and Obi-Wan’s arrest, Ahsoka decided it was finally time to get it over with and give Yoda her resignation. Anakin went with her for moral support, lingering outside of Yoda’s quarters while Ahsoka went in to talk with him. And yeah, sure, she was a big girl and could talk to Yoda on her own, but Anakin had offered and she really, _really_ did miss spending time with him, so....

“Master,” she said to Yoda, bowing, and he nodded at her kindly, motioning for her to sit down. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Welcome, young one,” he said. “Suspect why you are here, I do.”

She couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. It was _Yoda_ she was talking to, after all. She took a great, calming breath, willing herself to be zen. “Yes, Master. The truth is, I think I made a mistake in coming back to the Order.”

Yoda nodded meditatively. “Sensed unrest I have in you from the start, but occupied I was. Paid more attention, I should have. For this, I must apologize. And for other things as well.”

He seemed to gather his thoughts, and Ahsoka watched him, feeling it would be wrong to speak. He said, “Much thinking have I been doing,” he said. “Poorly handled, your trial was. Far too quick were we to jump on Tarkin’s request to extradite you. Listened to you, we did not. Listened to Skywalker and Kenobi we did not. Hasty we were, and suffered the consequences you did.” He looked up at her. “Sorry I am, Ahsoka.”

She kept his gaze. “Thank you, Master. I do appreciate that, truly. But…your words aren’t enough for me to stay.”

“Saying them for that reason, I am not,” Yoda said. “If your choice it is to leave, then bid I will the Force be with you and wish for you the best. No, saying these words I am because wronged you were. Stand by you the Council did not, save Obi-Wan and Plo Koon.”

So Master Plo _did_ vote in her favor after all—

“Prideful we allowed ourselves to be,” Yoda said almost sadly. “Corrupted we were by the presence of the dark side. See clearly, we did not. But we could have. Failed you we did, as we did Skywalker as well.”

It was…odd to hear this, Ahsoka thought. Yoda, who never demonstrated weakness (except perhaps to the Council, in which case she wouldn’t know)…it was both sad and somehow…refreshing. Don’t get her wrong, she looked up to him even after everything that had happened. But the truth was…all of that _had_ happened. Even if they apologized, even if they regretted it, they couldn’t take it back. None of it. It had all happened. It was done. She could forgive, but she would not be able to forget.

Suddenly she felt oddly alone. She wasn’t alone, because Yoda was here and with them was the Force. But suddenly she was aching for someone who understood her a little better, who could put her thoughts into words better than she was able to, someone who had never had a chance to finish being her master and who had missed her knighting ceremony, and now was missing her leaving _again_ —

“Speaking of Anakin,” Ahsoka said, “Do you mind if he joins us?”

“Appropriate that would be,” Yoda said, and he motioned his hand toward the door, which opened with the Force and revealed Anakin leaning against the opposite wall. “Skywalker — come.”

Entering through the doorway, Anakin glanced at her and mouthed, “You okay?” She nodded as he sat down on the cushion next to her, pulling his robe around himself.

Yoda said, “Good this opportunity is. Want to hear from both of you I do. I want to know what we could have done better.”

Ahsoka glanced at Anakin, and him back at her. He was the first one to say, “Master?”

“Just telling Ahsoka, I was, that failed both of you the Council did,” Yoda said. “Been thinking I have of that which you said recently, Skywalker. Wrong were you in how you said it, but truth there was behind your words.”

Anakin looked down at the floor. “I am sorry about how I acted, Master. As I told you when I left the Order, I truly am grateful for the opportunity to have been a Jedi. My behavior did not suit the training I received.”

Yoda nodded slowly. “Nevertheless, said these things you did. Feel them, you do. Now, tell me. What could we have done better?”

Anakin seemed somewhat lost, so Ahsoka spoke. “Master,” she said, “You sent me off to war when I was fourteen years old. I believe I handled it well, and I learned a great deal, and I understand the circumstances of the war…but I was a child.”

“Lost many Padawans, we did,” Yoda said. “Regret this, I do. Right you are — relied on children we should not have. I agree that well you have done, Ahsoka, but placed on your shoulders this burden should not have been. What else?”

Ahsoka didn’t have nearly as much to say as she thought Anakin probably would — but at the same time, she didn’t really think Anakin would actually voice many of his thoughts so she said: “I think the Council could have communicated with us better. For example, when — when you all decided to fake Obi-Wan’s death. Speaking for how I know _we_ both felt…it was like our emotions were being taken advantage of.”

Anakin huffed quietly, looking away from both of them. He muttered audibly but under his breath, “That’s an understatement.”

“Hmm,” Yoda sounded thoughtfully. “Wrong you are not, though hoped I did that handle it better you would. Hoped I did that be able to work through your attachments you would, and to learn that rely on them you cannot.” He was looking at Anakin when he said this, and Ahsoka wouldn’t deny that Anakin had handled it _pretty_ badly, almost killing a disguised Obi-Wan in revenge. She’d wondered, sometimes, what would have happened if he had succeeded. But her whole point to Yoda was that it should have never been an issue in the first place.

“Skywalker?” Yoda said, breaking the sudden silence. “What think you of improvements?”

Her master released a deep, annoyed-sounding breath. “It doesn’t matter, Master. It’s all in the past.”

“Matter your opinions do. Speak candidly, you can.”

Anakin blinked, and stared at Yoda. “Fine. You could have freed my mother.”

Yoda put his hands together and hummed again in contemplation. “A complicated issue is galactic slavery. Know this, you do.”

“With all due respect, Master,” Anakin said, his voice sounding odd and strained, “I don’t care. I _know_ about economics and power structures and politics and regional borders. I don’t agree with it, but I understand theoretically why the Jedi can’t do anything about slavery on a large scale. But you want to know what you could have done better, and I’m telling you. You should have freed my mother. I don’t care if that’s a flawed, one-sided perspective. The Jedi have the resources to have bought and freed one slave, and no answer as to why you didn’t will ever be good enough.”

Yoda was nodding along as he listened, though Ahsoka didn’t think it was necessarily in agreement. He said, “True that perhaps we should have. But only about your mother, this is not.”

“Excuse me?”

“Deflecting at me your anger toward yourself, you are,” Yoda said. “Regret your actions, you do. Let go of your guilt, you cannot.”

Anakin’s frown deepened, halfway to a snarl. “You know about that?”

“Sensed your turmoil I did. Your pain. Addressed it I should have, when it occurred. Hoped I did that you would understand on your own the need to let go, but learn from your mistakes you did not. A failure on both our parts, this was.”

“You knew what I did this whole time,” Anakin said repeated slowly, “And you never said anything?”

“Part of the reason, that was, why assigned Ahsoka to you I did. And part of why we kept Obi-Wan with you on assignments. Ignorant of your struggles I have not been. Independent, we wanted you to be. I wanted to treat you the same as we would any other Jedi. Wanted to avoid giving you special treatment. Perhaps a mistake this was.”

“Master,” Anakin said through a layer of exasperation, “Please know, I look up to you. And to Master Windu, and the rest of the Council. Even after everything that happened, and after all the years that you all didn’t trust me, I _still_ look up to you. But I needed support, Master. I needed help. My therapist says I’m going to need treatment for years. I needed you to intervene. I know I’ve made mistakes, I know I’ve done horrible things, I _know_ — and I know I’m responsible for those things, I would never pretend not to be. But you people have always claimed to be a family, and I’ve never once felt like a part of that family. I’ve never truly felt welcome here.”

Ahsoka watched as Anakin steeled his jaw and added, “And when I really needed your help most of all, Master, you and the Council used me. Just like Palpatine did.”

Yoda was quiet for a moment. “Our intention, this was not. Thinking of the welfare of the Republic we were.”

“I understand that,” Anakin said blankly. “But you still used me. Over and over again.”

“Ask again, I must,” Yoda said, “What could we have done better?”

Anakin sounded exhausted when he said, “You could have just told me the truth of your intentions.”

“See it from our perspective you must,” Yoda said. “Seemed more devoted to the Chancellor than the Order, you did, and untrustworthy was the Chancellor.”

Ahsoka kind of felt like she shouldn’t be here at all. She was just sitting there still as stone, thinking maybe she was really here to be _Anakin’s_ moral support, when originally he had been hers.

It wouldn’t be the first time for that. Like when she’d escaped from the Trandoshan hunters, and had to comfort him instead of it being the other way around. This time felt different, somehow, though. There was something special about how Anakin wasn’t afraid to say any of this in front of her — and honestly, the fact that Anakin was able to say any of this at all. 

How many times had he said to her over the years: _I don’t want to talk about it._

Maybe _she_ should be in therapy, if it helped this much.

Ouch. Considering she felt most at home while fighting in a war — yeah, maybe that was true.

After a tense pause, Anakin finally spoke again. “And you were more devoted to the Republic than you were to your own.”

Yoda sighed. “Complicated that is, as you know. Serve the Republic first, we do, but likewise do I care for the Jedi and our way of life. Mistakes we made with you two that I hope to avoid replicating. Learn from these mistakes I will, but apologize I do for making them. Helpful, this has been. A better future for the Jedi do I see because of it.”

Ahsoka nodded, not really sure what else, if anything, she should say. 

“Anything to add, have you?” Yoda said, looking between them.

“Master, if I may,” Anakin said, and Yoda nodded for him to continue. Anakin looked down at the floor. “What’s going to happen to Obi-Wan?”

Yoda exhaled. “Much mystery there remains behind this event. Sensed traces of the dark side I did in wake of Sidious’s death, but unable to pinpoint the source I was. Possible we believe it to be that Obi-Wan committed this act, and if he did then punished for it by the Republic he will be.”

“With all due respect, Master,” Anakin said again. “As we’ve been over, Ahsoka was innocent and almost found guilty. Will you really let that happen to him, too?”

“Patient we must be,” Yoda said, and there was the tiniest hint of warning in his voice now. “Patient _you_ must be, Anakin. Time it is for you to learn from the past and gain control.”

Ahsoka knew Anakin well enough to spot the clenching of his jaw, the tiny quirk of frustration in his brow. “This isn’t about me, it’s about Obi-Wan.”

“About you this is,” Yoda said matter-of-factly. “Misplaced your judgement here is. Care for Obi-Wan, I do. Heartless, I am not. Hope for Obi-Wan’s innocence, I do. But about you, your concerns _are_ even if realize it you do not. Fear you to let go, and almost brought you to the Sith your attachments did. Understand, you must, that saying this to restrain you I am not. Want to help you I do. But if you continue to allow your attachments to guide you then continue to lead you to destruction and chaos they will!”

Yoda released another sigh that seemed to be from deep within himself. “Say again and again I do, but listening you are not. Think you back a week ago. Lost control of yourself, you did, Anakin. Temptation you felt. Anger, hatred, aggression. Of the dark side are these.” He paused for a moment, thinking. Ahsoka got the impression that he was deliberating something. “Beginning I am to fully comprehend the effects that Palpatine had on you. Blamed for his manipulations you cannot be, but deal with the consequences you must or risk you will your own destruction. Stop avoiding this you must!”

Ahsoka watched as Anakin’s gaze went from steely to shameful, and as his eyeline slid down to the floor in torn contemplation. Yoda went on, “Spoken of being in therapy you have. Blind the Jedi are not to emotional crises. Yet another area in which the Order must seek to improve. Learn from these events I hope the Order will. Try to lead this growth, I will.” He exhaled again. “And learn soon we will the truth behind Sidious’s death. Order you around I cannot, but advise you I must. Time now you will have to heal. Take advantage of it. Look inward, and listen to the Force. Listen not to your dark thoughts. Let them go. Have faith in Obi-Wan, and in the Force.”

Anakin was frowning now, and Ahsoka thought he was thinking the same thing she was: that he _did_ have faith in Obi-Wan. Just not in anyone who might decide his fate.

Still, Yoda’s words weren’t wrong. No, they were definitely right. But Ahsoka knew well enough that sometimes doing the right thing wasn’t always the _easy_ thing.

She also knew that if Obi-Wan _did_ kill Palpatine then that was _definitely_ the right thing, just maybe not in the Jedi type of way. More in the…School of Skywalker type of way. But she wasn’t going to say that to Yoda. No, she didn’t think he would like that at all.

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said, sounding not-quite bitter, not-quite-not. “Please just do what you can for him.”

Ahsoka said, “May the Force be with you, Master.”

“May the Force be with you both on your next journeys,” Yoda said, raising a hand in an act of dismissal and farewell. “Hope to see you both again, I do.”

She smiled awkwardly at him before shuffling out of the room with Anakin, then headed with her old master down the corridors to her own quarters to clean out the remainder of her things. 

“Well,” she said as they walked. “That’s that, I guess. What do you think?”

He reached up to rub his eyes. “Well,” he repeated. “ _Some_ of what he said is fair. Most of it, I guess. I don’t know what else I expected.”

“He said he wants to improve the Order,” she said. “That’s something, at least.”

“I know,” Anakin said tiredly. “That part was fine. And the part about the attachments and stuff, you know, I _get_ it. I know he’s right, and that’s fine. Like I said, I _know_ I can’t let go. I know I haven’t even really tried. Honestly, I don’t really want to. But that’s _not_ what this is about. None of what he said makes me feel any better about Obi-Wan.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka said, feeling pretty unsatisfied about that herself. She didn’t know what _she_ had expected. A tearful farewell? No, definitely not. A long list of confessions and remorseful observations from Yoda instead of her and Anakin having to supply the Jedi’s list of failures themselves? No, but they had definitely gotten in that direction. But at least Yoda had apologized. That was something.

And yeah. Most of what he said _was_ fair. Ahsoka really did understand the need to let go. It wasn’t like she had abandoned that school of thought herself. Even when she had been away, she still believed in the Jedi way of life, and letting go of attachments when it was necessary was a vital, inherent part of that.

But she _also_ understood why it was so hard for Anakin to do it. The only one among them who had grown up with their biological family. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been to try incorporating that aspect of the Jedi philosophy. And it wasn’t that he didn’t try. He’d always taught her not to let her attachments and feelings get in the way of her decision making. It was simply that this time, he couldn’t practice what he preached.

That, she thought, was what made him such a good teacher. Because he _knew_. He understood. And he _had_ been an amazing Jedi…just not really by the Council’s definition, maybe. 

So yes. What Yoda had said was true in many ways. Ahsoka knew it, and she knew Anakin knew it. 

But it was _really_ hard to put into practice, sometimes.

They got to her bedroom door and went inside. She pulled a bag out of her closet and said, “I really do love the Jedi…or, the concept of them. And the people themselves. But it all kind of just feels like I grew up here at the wrong time, you know? Even ten years earlier or later, and we wouldn’t have had this war, these Sith, these bombings or framings or _any_ of it. I would have been able to live here my whole life and never regret a single day. Now, all I can think of is how badly I want to leave, though I’m also going to miss it so much.”

Anakin nodded dully from where he was standing, fiddling with something on her shelf. “What’s your next move, you think?”

“I have no idea,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s why I came back to begin with. It seemed like the easy choice. I just don’t know what to do with myself, otherwise…but at the same time, I know I just can’t stay.”

“I get it. Being a Jedi was always what I wanted as a kid,” Anakin said wistfully. “Actually, that’s not true. Helping people was what I wanted, and being a Jedi seemed like the best way to do that. I had never seen one before Qui-Gon…I didn’t know about their rules, their restrictions. I didn’t even know I had the Force. I did have dreams about the Jedi life, but I don’t know if they were prophetic or not.”

Putting a keepsake ornament in her bag, she said jokingly, “Well, the Force kinda made you, right? So they must have been.”

He shrugged, smirking. “All I’m saying is in retrospect, as much as I really do look up to them…the image I built in my head was too much for them to live up to, I guess.”

“They say you should never meet your heroes,” Ahsoka said. “You’ll always be disappointed.” She paused, then added, “You weren’t a disappointment, though.”

Anakin laughed. “I was your hero?”

“You’re _the_ hero, remember? _All_ the younglings were talking about you and Obi-Wan. They were so jealous when I told them I’d been assigned to you.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

“Well,” she said humorously, “There were a few hiccups, I guess.”

“I seem to recall trying to return you at first.”

“That _is_ I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he said sadly but with a smile, looking out the window. “You know, there’s this thing Obi-Wan said to me right before he was arrested…that he learned as much training me as I learned from him. I didn’t get that at first, but — it’s true. I learned a lot from you, Snips. I owe you a lot, too.”

“Consider us even, Skyguy” Ahsoka said, slinging her packed bag over her shoulder. “I can’t say you taught me _everything_ I know, but definitely around seventy-five percent. I wouldn’t have made it through anything without the things you taught me. Things that would make other Jedi have a heart attack,” she added.

“Well, we’re not Jedi anymore,” Anakin said with a twisted grin. “Ready to go?”

“After you.”

So, they left. Out of the residential area, up a turbolift to the main level, out the main entryway and down the steps, the same steps on which they had once said goodbye....

Not this time, though. This time, they did it together. And maybe Ahsoka’s path would diverge temporarily from his again, but they would always have this moment. And there was no one who could take that away. Not anymore.

Inexplicably, though…she found herself wishing that Obi-Wan was here with them. Soon, she hoped, he would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always write these long authors notes explaining why I made the choices I did and then delete them the night before posting because I want everyone to come to their own conclusions. It’s a struggle. But as always I am down to discuss your collective thoughts 💁♀️
> 
> Though to be fair we all seem to be relatively like minded individuals here so basically yas skyguy and snips spill the tea sis 🐸☕️


	17. soft to be strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have FINALLY made it to that #Eventual Fluff
> 
> but first another disclaimer: I am still neither a psychologist nor a lawyer lmao

The first few weeks of therapy sessions had been pretty rough, in all honesty, and Anakin hadn’t exactly expected any different. It wasn’t like he was ignorant of the fact that he’d been bottling up his feelings for…well, his entire life. No, Anakin was self-aware enough to understand _some_ things about his own psychological state. Just, like, not the parts that mattered the most, apparently.

But over and over again, Dr. Druyan drilled it into him that he wasn’t at fault for not noticing the things that had been done to him. Even though it still, very often, felt like it was. Felt like it had to be. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel like it wasn’t. But…well…maybe he was starting to sort of get there, a little.

But still, ugh! Why did this have to happen to him, of all people? Of all people who had been chosen to bring balance back to the Force, of all the people with over twenty thousand midi-chlorians per cell, why did this man have to target _him?_

There. See? Self-aware.

Ugh.

Why why why was this so complicated why did this happen to _him_ whyyyy—

“This is a stupid question,” Anakin said slowly, “But if what everything you’ve told me is true, which…I guess it is, because you’ve been doing this a long time…why is it so hard to comprehend? Why can’t I just listen to what you’re saying and believe it?”

“Not a stupid question,” Dr. Druyan said kindly. “A very good one, actually. See, our brains have evolved over millions of years to be able to adapt to our environments. If you see the things that some people can go through and survive — long bouts of torture, mistreatment, slavery — through evolution and natural selection, our brains developed mechanisms to be able to survive those things. Every single emotion we feel, every thought we have, every physiological reaction, as you know, comes from the brain and serves a purpose. It’s the same with trauma, coping mechanisms, all of it.”

Anakin just frowned. “I don’t think I get _why_ though.”

“Let me try to give a sort of real world example,” she said. “Let’s say you go through a traumatic event. Could be anything that causes you physical or mental distress. Your brain sees this event and processes that it will be harmful to you to keep thinking about it. So it puts the memory of that event into a little keepsake box. Closes it. Slides it under your bed, so to speak. For a while you think, I’ll look into the box when I’m ready, I just need a little distraction from it is all. But as time goes on, there are other things happening, you form new memories based off the new experiences you have, and you’re not really thinking about the box anymore. You forget about it, but it’s still there, under the bed, there until called for.

“Years pass, and you’ve decided to move, so you’re cleaning out the apartment and find the box under your bed. You think, hm, what is this? You open it, and you think — did _I_ put this all in here? I don’t remember doing so…or do I? Or did someone else do it, and I watched them? You think, I can’t have done it, because I would remember something like this. But it does seem…familiar. And then, suddenly…it hits you. You remember it. You put that box under the bed, and you put these things in the box. You may have forgotten about them, but they were always there.

“See, every part of your body is _constantly_ in survival mode. Your digestive system is always working on the food and drink you consume. Your heart pumps blood, your lungs breathe, your muscles keep your skeleton upright. Your nervous system processes everything that all of those organs and other systems are doing. Your brain processes what you’re seeing and hearing. But we don’t consciously think about any of it, because the brain does it all for us. You don’t have to breathe manually, you don’t have to think about how to walk every time you do it. Your brain just does it for you. Every single thing in our bodies has a physiological function. Emotions happen in our brains, and they serve a function that is just as vital at helping us survive as your heart pumping blood and your lungs breathing air.”

She shifted in her seat. “We don’t have emotions for no reason. We feel fear to help us react to dangerous stimuli. We feel pleasure as part of a reward system. And we feel anxiety because our body has been trained to believe that certain situations are dangerous, even though we know rationally that they are not.”

Anakin was frowning, contemplating all of this. “So you’re saying…everything has a reason?”

“It’s more like everything has an origin,” she said. “There are some things in life that can’t be explained. Like, if someone got hit by an intoxicated speeder driver and they said, why did this have to happen to me? Sometimes things _do_ happen at random. What I’m saying is that our biological functions came to exist because they had a reason to. Sometimes, those functions are a little out of date. The tailbone in humans, for instance. Humans don’t have tails, but thousands of millions of years ago their ancestors did. Similarly, the fight, flight, or freeze response came about in ages past as a survival mechanic against predators. In our current society, you might think you don’t need that response anymore, but it’s still something that we use very often.”

“But sometimes it makes life harder,” Anakin said. “Like when I was on the stand at the trial, my instinct should have been fight, but I froze.”

“Yes,” she said, “But that response of yours had an origin. Your brain adapted to the situation in the way that it thought was best. See, this is the very root of it all: trauma, anxiety, depression, any form of mental illness in anyone who has one, has a physiological origin. The amounts of different chemicals in your brain fluctuate based on different stimuli, and sometimes those fluctuations work against us. That’s why therapy is so hard. Because we have to help your brain understand how to function differently, which is no easy task. That’s also why some mental illnesses are easier to treat than others — though it varies person to person, of course.”

Anakin drummed his fingers on the armrest. “I think you should have opened with all that in our first session.”

She laughed. “That all make sense?” 

He nodded, taking it in. “It’s like droids. A single loose wire can cause a whole system failure.” 

At least, that’s what Obi-Wan always liked to joke about R2.

Ugh! Obi-Wan....

“Sure,” she said. “If it helps to think of it like that. You get what I’m saying, though?”

“I think for once I actually do.”

Dr. Druyan smiled, and he couldn’t help but return one of his own.

She said, “Want to leave it there for today? Spend some time thinking about it?”

“Yeah,” Anakin said distantly. “Oh, but — I’ve been meaning to tell you. Me and Padmé might be moving to Naboo soon. If we do…what should I do about…this?”

“Up to you,” she said. “You can find someone over there if you want, as long as you make sure they’re trained in trauma, or if you want we can see each other over holo.”

“That would be amazing,” he said, relief washing over him. “I don’t think I can handle starting over.”

“Don’t worry,” she said pleasantly. “As long as the time difference isn’t an issue, I’m happy to continue.”

“I’ll get up at oh four hundred if it means I can keep seeing you.” Anakin blinked, belatedly hearing his own words. “I can’t believe I just expressed any excitement at all to go to therapy. That’s good, right?”

“Very good,” she said through a laugh. “I won’t deny you’ve got a long way to go, but you have made great strides already. There will still be a lot of ups and downs, but you’ve got a great support system and your abuser is out of the picture. You’re going to be okay, Anakin.”

He would start believing that soon, he thought. If Obi-Wan was let go, maybe. 

…UGH! He felt so damn helpless.

* * *

At last, the day came when something would finally happen in Obi-Wan’s increasingly dull life. Before they were to meet with Tarkin, Bail informed Obi-Wan that it had been three _weeks_ , now, which was a startling, abstract contrast to the fact that for Obi-Wan it felt like months. 

He did not, unfortunately, get to leave the facility in which they were keeping him, so he could not yet breathe even a gasp of fresh air, but getting out of the cell was a lovely enough change that Obi-Wan couldn’t complain. They convened with Tarkin and a few other litigative officials in a conference room guarded by clones, as if they thought he would try something. That was all well and good, Obi-Wan thought. He’d had enough of murder for one lifetime.

Not that he regretted it, because he still did not, solitary confinement and a loosening grip on his sanity be damned.

Ah, no, he was just being dramatic now. Because he still was not alone. He still had the Force. That was enough for him. It had to be. It was.

“General Kenobi,” Tarkin said, sitting down opposite him and Bail. “I believe it is your lucky day.”

Obi-Wan felt his eyebrows raise. “I’m afraid I don’t quite believe in luck, Admiral.”

“It’s Grand Moff, actually,” Tarkin said coolly, eyeing him with his face angled just slightly toward the ceiling, as if he were trying to literally look down on him.

“I apologize,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ve simply been in here so long, I assumed they must have repealed the governor bill by now. I suppose that’s what happens when one’s connection to the outside is severed.”

“Indeed,” Tarkin said haughtily. “Well, if you play your cards right, you may very well be able to catch up on current events soon enough.”

Bail interjected, “What do you mean?”

“I am here to offer you a plea bargain,” Tarkin said, and he had a rather sour look on his face as if these words brought pain to him. “And I do suggest you take it.”

“You’re bluffing, Tarkin,” Bail said lightly. “Your case doesn’t have a leg to stand on. You’re simply afraid of your inevitable loss.”

“Senator Organa,” Tarkin said. “I beg you not to misunderstand me — I am quite certain that the general is guilty. In fact, I have no doubt of it. And if you do choose to go to trial I assure you I will win. Indeed, I would prefer you _not_ take the deal, yet here I am offering it to you.” He quirked an eyebrow at Obi-Wan. “You would hear me out at least?”

“It appears I have little else to do,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

Tarkin watched him with an almost predatory gaze as he said, “We are willing to let you go on the condition that you leave the Jedi Order and agree never again to return to it. You will give up your lightsaber, your rank, and any and all titles and privileges.”

Obi-Wan quirked a brow. “And go into exile? Would you like that, too?”

“What you choose to do with your life is none of my concern,” Tarkin said. “Unless, of course, you plan on taking part in any further assassinations.”

“This is absurd,” Bail cut in. “We will be taking no such deal.”

“Senator, General,” Tarkin said. “I have reviewed the footage. I have gone over the evidence. Whereas the analysis droids may not find it damning, they are completely incapable of rationalizing the existence of the Force. When put into a persuasive argument before the courts, I assure you they will see the truth as I see it. In that eventuality, General Kenobi, I will ensure that you spend the rest of your life imprisoned in a cell very similar to the one you are currently calling home. I will see to it personally if I must.”

“Your case is founded on baseless assumptions,” Bail said rationally. “General Kenobi simply found himself victim of unfortunate circumstances, as did Chancellor Palpatine.”

“He had motive,” Tarkin countered, looking at Obi-Wan. “The Chancellor’s relationship with your little protégé. Skywalker’s poor performance at the trial.”

“Baseless accusations,” Bail repeated, emphasizing each word.

“Senator,” Tarkin said, matching Bail’s tone with exaggerated condescension. “I find it very difficult to believe that the security droid just _happened_ to malfunction half an hour before the Chancellor’s death, and that General Kenobi just _happened_ to be ignorant of it while it occurred. What about the Force, General? Couldn’t you sense the Chancellor’s condition? Or were you the one causing it?”

Bail raised a hand to indicate to Obi-Wan not to respond. “You will have to try harder than that, Tarkin. Your words in Palpatine’s trial may have convinced the senators, but your efforts here are futile. Might I make a counter suggestion that you and your team drop your case?”

“You might,” Tarkin said, standing up. He looked at Obi-Wan. “The offer will remain on the table should you change your mind.”

He left, and Bail looked back at Obi-Wan. “We will go to trial,” the senator said. “And we will win. I promise you that.”

Obi-Wan didn’t necessarily disagree. It was all simply such a bother. And it was just that much more time before he saw Anakin and Padmé and Ahsoka again, and he wasn’t _entirely_ sure he was willing to wait that long, was all.

* * *

Three weeks had passed since the death of Padmé’s old advisor, one-time senatorial representative, sort-of-friend, and more recently mortal enemy, and finally she was saying her goodbyes to the Galactic Senate in which she had been serving for most of her twenties. It was bittersweet, honestly; she really did love her job, sometimes, though she would have loved it a lot more if there hadn’t been an autocrat attempting to gain total control of the galaxy, and manipulating the very fabric of their democracy in order to do it. But she had always lived to serve, and looking back on her career choices, she still did not regret a single day.

But she was _so_ glad it was over, and she was _so_ ready to leave.

She announced her retirement the day of, with Queen Apailana’s approval of course. She wasn’t particularly specific when people asked her reasons, just said that she wanted to focus on her family after dedicating her entire childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood to politics. She _had_ told the Loyalists ahead of time, as soon as she could after Palpatine had died, and though Padmé was truly sorry to leave them with the mess of the current government, she was also _very_ ready to be with her twins.

She felt like she had missed so much of their lives already. And yes, she would have the rest of hers to be with them, but those were still two months she had barely spent with them and she would never get that time back. Padmé didn’t think she’d ever quite gone as far as postpartum depression territory, but there had been days when she probably had. She wasn’t sure she could pinpoint the cause of her crying spells and emotional spikes; it could have been her daytime separation from the twins, or maybe the trial, or empathy for Anakin’s own struggles. All of that had been deeply troubling, and now there was a new source of stress for her life as well: whatever was happening with Obi-Wan.

On that note, what _was_ happening with Obi-Wan? She didn’t know. She’d asked Bail for updates, but hadn’t felt it was appropriate to press his simple answers that it was going well. He said he was optimistic, and of course she wanted to be as well, but Anakin was climbing the walls at home and she just wished she could relay to him a more convincing answer than ‘it’s going well, he’s going to be fine, don’t worry.’ Cryptic responses that only seemed to make Anakin more worried, somehow. Perhaps because it was out of his control.

Indeed there was nothing either of them could do for Obi-Wan now, so she would simply have to be calm and patient, and she wasn’t sure if that would be easier or harder to do when her retirement was completely and entirely finalized and she finally had free time.

In the Senate building on her last day, she said her farewells. To Chi Eekway, Bana Breemu, Fang Zar, Giddean Danu, Meena Tillis, Orn Free Ta. She spoke at length with Jar Jar, who would be her replacement, and who was bombad sad to be seein’ hersa go until Padmé reminded him she would be living on their mutual homeworld and he was welcome to come visit her and Ani at any time.

Finally, she met with Bail and Mon, her dearest friends in the capital, the pillars of strength from whom she had drawn inspiration and motivation for years of tumultuous service. The three of them gathered in her office with a trio of fond smiles, and suddenly she was the saddest that she had been all day.

“I hope you can understand if I need a break,” she said, trying to be lighthearted.

“You deserve it,” Mon said kindly. “The worst seems to be over, though the struggle will continue.”

“That’s why I asked you to come here,” Padmé said, “Besides saying my goodbyes, of course. I wanted to tell you....” She lowered her voice, even though they were alone. “Keep working. The Constitution is in shreds, the government is clueless without their dictator. The fight isn’t over. Keep making allies. Keep the alliance in tact.”

Mon nodded. “I have spoken with Captain Ackbar. He says he will keep their army on standby for some time in the event that a new leader tries to keep Palpatine’s emergency powers for themselves.”

“There is a danger,” Bail agreed. “Mas Amedda is one, and I grow more suspicious of Tarkin by the day. The Senate is split in two and I don’t _think_ anyone will be able to garner Palpatine’s level of support, but I’m certain someone will try.”

“And it may not happen right away,” Padmé said. “The door has been opened for an autocrat. There is precedent now in the law. I’m sorry I can’t help you prevent a new one.”

Bail laughed. “Are you, though?”

“A little,” Padmé said playfully. “But I’m definitely ready to get away. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be back when the twins are grown.”

“You’re going to make a wonderful mother, Padmé,” Mon said, beaming. “Give General Skywalker my regards. And, from me to you: I am sorry for doubting him. He more than proved his integrity at the trial.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Padmé said. “Anakin is a wonderful, good person, but he’s had some hurtles to jump over. Palpatine’s influence was the biggest one. That is no longer a problem, it seems.”

“And tell him I am doing my very best,” Bail said. “I will not let Obi-Wan be Palpatine’s final victory.”

“Good luck,” Padmé said with finality. “And thank you for doing this. And both of you — if you ever need anything, at any time, _ever_ — you know where to find me.”

“Indeed,” Mon said. “For all our sake’s, I hope we never need take you up on that.”

And with that, with smiles and maybe a few tears on her face — Padmé said goodbye and went home, more than ready to start her new life.

Anakin looked up as soon as she entered and smiled at her. “Was it as hard as you thought it would be?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” she said, reaching up to pull off her hairpiece. The release from the weight of the thing seemed more pronounced than it usually did, just as good as taking off a corset or no longer carrying around two babies inside her body. “Said my goodbyes, gave my instructions. I told Jar Jar he could visit us any time.”

“Mesa can’t wait,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “We’ll have to Gungun-proof the house before we toddler-proof it.”

“I’ve met a lot of Gunguns,” she said, laughing, “And never anyone quite like Jar Jar. Pretty sure anyone else would be safe.”

“Did you talk to—”

“Yes, darling,” Padmé said affectionately. “Bail said Obi-Wan is fine, just like every other time you’ve asked.”

Anakin nodded and gave a half-shrug. “Sorry,” he said. “I know. Gotta be patient.”

“I’m worried about him, too,” she said, pulling out the last of her hairpins and scratching her scalp. Anakin had been like this every day, of course, preoccupied with his master’s uncertain fate, bouncing around like a balloon with too much air, about to burst. There was only so much she could do. Well, actually, she did have an unrelated but distracting idea, and it wasn’t _just_ for his own benefit....

“You know,” Padmé said suggestively, strolling up to him with maybe a little more sway in her hips than normal. When she reached him, she snaked her arms around his shoulders and looked up at him. “It’s been a while since we did anything…my body’s all healed up down there, now. Maybe after we put the twins down for the night we could....”

“Last time you were eight months pregnant,” Anakin said, suddenly grinning. He slid his hands down her waist, coming to rest on her hips. “And I’d just come back from war. We both might have a little more energy this time around.”

“And a little more room to maneuver,” she whispered, pulling him down to meet her lips. The kiss was warm, simple but passionate, and her mind went completely blank but for the pure love passing between them…Anakin’s arms pulled her in more snugly, he was as hungry for her as she was for him and she could already feel him getting—

“Anakin,” she said, pulling back just enough to be able to talk. “I said _after_ the twins are down for the night.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, leaning down to kiss her every couple of words. “I miss you too much.”

She pulled away again, laughing, leaving him to press his lips to the side of her face instead. “You see me every day, Ani.”

“It’s not enough,” he said into her neck now. “Don’t tease me like this....”

Padmé could only giggle. Her passionate romantic. Her tall, dark and handsome Jedi Knight. “Soon, my love. Soon.”

“The twins can sleep early tonight.”

“You heard my mom,” she said, swatting him playfully. “They need a proper schedule.”

“Fine. If we can manage to stay up that late.” Anakin clapped a hand to his forehead. “I can’t believe what I’m saying. I’m twenty-three, I sound like an old man.”

Suddenly Padmé had to stifle a yawn. “One day we’ll have children who sleep through the night.”

“At least I can actually sleep at all now.”

“At least _I_ can finally retire.” Oh. “There, now _I_ sound like the old one.”

“We’re just an old married couple now, I guess,” Anakin said, holding her close to him. 

She rested her head against his collarbone and yawned again into his chest. “I thought you and Obi-Wan were the old married couple. _We’re_ the young married parents.”

“I like the sound of it,” he said into her hair. “I’m so glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Me too. It’s finally all over. All of it.”

They stood there for a long, wonderful moment, as if the universe was made up only of them, until a minute later when Anakin pulled back slightly.

“Padmé,” he said, looking down at her. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say, but I didn’t really have the words until now…I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Through any of it,” Anakin said. “I missed your whole pregnancy. I was afraid to acknowledge your work, which meant you couldn’t come and talk to me about it. I know I’ve been so distant and…I’m sorry.”

Padmé felt a smile creep up on her. “Ani,” she said, “I appreciate your words, and I’m so happy you’re able to say them. But you don’t have to apologize.”

“Well, I am anyway,” he said. “And, you were right. I do want to improve our relationship. I think, if and when I only go to therapy _one_ day a week, maybe we could try doing it together.”

“Yeah?” she said, eyebrows shooting up. “I’d be down for that. I think they’d have their work cut out for them with us, though.”

Suddenly he laughed. “That’s exactly what I told my therapist about me. So…you’re probably right.”

Padmé’s arms were still around him, and she pulled him a little closer. “My husband that finally talks about his feelings. I’m happy for you.”

Anakin shrugged. “It’s still hard, but it’s like a weight’s been lifted.”

“By the way,” she said, “And you don’t have to answer, but…how _do_ you feel about Palpatine’s death?”

His mouth twisted into a frown. “I don’t know. Relieved, I guess. Worried, obviously, about Obi-Wan…and honestly, kind of…sad.” He stared off into the distance for a moment, then glanced at her. “I know that’s messed up.”

“It’s not,” Padmé said, running a hand through his hair. “Have you talked to your therapist about it?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I’m finally starting to actually comprehend that it…that what he was doing was abuse. I kept giving way to the part of me that wanted to see him again…it’s been there been there ever since that night....” He sighed. “But then I realized that he was basically torturing me with sleep deprivation to try and win his trial, and, well. I thought I’d had the wake up call already, but I think that was actually it.”

“I wish you hadn’t gone through all of that,” she said. “I wish a lot of things hadn’t happened.”

“Me too,” Anakin said. “I’m glad _we_ did, though. Not everyone gets to marry their childhood crush. Who also happened to be the queen of an entire planet.”

“Not everyone gets to marry the most gorgeous Jedi in the galaxy, either,” she said. “We’re both just lucky, I guess.”

“Obi-Wan says there’s no such thing as luck.”

Padmé couldn’t fight off a smile. “You know you’ve mentioned Obi-Wan in almost every conversation we’ve ever had. Not a criticism, just an observation.”

He buried his face in her hair, but she could tell he was grinning again. “I have no intention of changing.” He held her there for a while, and she found them sort of swaying ever so slightly on their feet. Then he whispered, “Sure we can’t put the twins down early?”

“Ani,” she laughed, swatting him again. “We have the rest of our lives together. I think you can wait four more hours.”

He sighed comically. “Now this is a different kind of torture.”


	18. believe in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weird plug I know but visit my Animal Crossing dream DA-5282-7440-5645 I have 600+ hours and no one to share it with lol. I have a Jurassic Park and jungle area, beachside cafe, lots of space items, and my current project is the pirate shipwreck. yarr it be goin' well methinks, ok bless now enjoy ~~your life~~ the show
> 
> (p.s. if you do visit, go to the back room of my house. It's Star Wars themed. just trust me)

Obi-Wan had to admit that this whole business was really starting to make him grow rather weary.

With no ties to the outside world, he relied on Bail to tell him it had been four weeks since Palpatine’s assassina—aaahem. Death. Palpatine’s death. Four weeks he’d spent in and out of his little cell, in and out of meetings, interviews with law officials, the occasional visit from Mace when it was permitted. And to tell the truth, Obi-Wan was _quite_ ready for it all to be over.

So ready, in fact, that he’d recently been wondering if he might as well just speed things along.

Bail continued to be insistent upon the idea that it was only a matter of time until he was let go. Tarkin simply didn’t have a case, he said. Perhaps he didn’t, Obi-Wan thought, and having the case dismissed by the courts would indeed be a wonderful surprise. But the truth was, at the end of the day — Obi-Wan didn’t particularly care about maintaining his good reputation, or keeping for himself all the things that winning the trial would give him. High esteem among the citizenry of the Republic, and all that superficial drivel. It wasn’t so important to him anymore. Not after everything that had happened.

And it wasn’t _exactly_ that he was impatient to get back to his — well, his family. His _new_ family, rather than his old one. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. But what Obi-Wan was, frankly, was guilty. And no, he wasn’t exactly going to _tell_ anyone that, but what that meant to him now was that perhaps he did not deserve to keep his pristine reputation in tact by winning the trial legitimately. He was not emotionally dependent on that idea. He was not, so to speak, attached to his reputation. So if, perhaps, getting out of here with a subjectively _poor_ reputation was the fastest way to do it— 

Oh all right, so maybe he was a little impatient. Anakin would be so proud. But the point was, if he _was_ going to get off free as Bail insisted he would, Obi-Wan did not care to wait for the whole process to conclude naturally if perhaps there was a way to simply end it now.

He brought this up to Bail one day, careful to choose his words (he still had to make sure Bail thought he was innocent, an unfortunate but necessary part of his plans), trying to sound humble and saying he simply wanted to accept Tarkin’s plea deal and be done with it. Saying that if they could just end the debate, then they could all get back to the more important things, like putting the Republic back together in its patchwork form, a goal far more worthy and pressing than wasting their time debating Obi-Wan’s fate.

Unsurprisingly, Bail kindly dismissed his notion, insisting again it was only a matter of time before this was all over, so Obi-Wan had to insist right back at him. 

“I know what I’m saying, Bail,” he said. “I’m perfectly content to just leave it be and accept Tarkin’s supposed punishment. That’s the thing, I don’t even see it as such.”

Bail eyed him suspiciously. “And _I’m_ saying you don’t have to do that. You have a perfectly clean record, Obi-Wan. There’s no need to tarnish it by accepting an unnecessary so-called bargain.”

“I don’t have a clean record, exactly,” Obi-Wan countered. “I’ve disobeyed the Council enough times. I’ve intervened in the internal affairs on Mandalore, a neutral planet, at least thrice during the war. One of those times very recently, in fact. My record does not state perfect service. I have no wish to cause the Order any pain. I don’t want to soil _their_ reputation by making it look like negligence is something the Order makes a habit of.”

His friend had a pained look on his face. “No one expects you to be perfect, Obi-Wan.”

“I’m not saying any Jedi is perfect,” Obi-Wan said. “But when lives are at stake, a Jedi should strive to be as close to perfect as they can, if it means preventing death or bloodshed. I clearly did not do that here. I’m telling you, Bail — no, I’m _asking_ you. Let me do this.”

Bail sighed. “At least allow me the courtesy of trying to have the Jedi talk you out of it?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I’ll talk with them, but really I am quite sure of this.”

“And I am quite _unsure_ , I’m afraid.”

So a day later, Bail returned to Obi-Wan’s cell with Windu and Yoda, and they, indeed, seemed keen on ‘talking him out of it.’

“Necessary to sacrifice yourself it is not,” Yoda said. “Hasty you must not be.”

“I am not trying to be hasty, Master,” Obi-Wan said, attempting to sound like the good Jedi that the two masters before him seemed to think he was. “I’m trying to do what I see is the right thing. My lack of diligence over the duties I was responsible for, and my ignorance of the malfunctioning security droid, leave you and the Order in an uncomfortable situation. I am asking you to let me restore your reputation. I do not want the Republic thinking that this…this sloppiness is how the Council prefers to act.”

“To be commended your humility is, Obi-Wan,” Yoda replied. “But much introspection have I done, and wish to stand by you I do. Surrender you so easily to the Republic, we must not.”

Obi-Wan thought his surprise must be evident on his face. “I take it you talked to Ahsoka?”

Yoda nodded. “And Skywalker. Some good points they have made. Felt abandoned and used, they did. Wish to abandon you as well, I do not.”

“I appreciate your concern, Master, truly,” Obi-Wan said, happy to hear the grandmaster’s words. “But I am certain of my choice.”

Windu was watching him. “I’m simply concerned you’re asking to leave the Order for the wrong reasons.”

Obi-Wan thought before responding. “What are those wrong reasons, Mace?”

“I think it’s obvious.”

“Attachment,” Yoda said simply.

Suddenly Obi-Wan felt very much like he was being seen through, as if his body or brain were translucent. “Once again, Masters, your insight into one’s character is astounding.” He quirked his head to the side. “Or maybe I’m just too obvious.”

“Even if you wish to leave the Order to be with Skywalker and Senator Amidala,” Windu said, “If you are innocent, which we have all agreed on, what good would it do to go about it in this way?”

“As I said,” Obi-Wan replied. “The good of the Order.”

Yoda sighed. “Perhaps negligent in your observations you were, yes, but need to do this you do not.”

“I want to,” Obi-Wan said again. 

The two wise masters shared a long look, and glanced back at Bail, who was standing by the door. Yoda said, “Stop you, I will not. But if go through with this you do, impossible it will be for you to return to the Order, should you ever change your mind.”

“I understand.”

“Respect your choice, I do,” Yoda said. “But caution you I must, as I did Skywalker. Worried I am that your emotions are affecting you as they do him. Calm you are in the Force, and in control I feel you are, yet escalate your feelings may. Allow this to happen, you cannot.”

Obi-Wan said, “I will not leave the Order’s principles behind. For me, being a Jedi is a way of life, not a title or a status. I assure you, Master, I have no interest in giving up control.”

Yoda nodded, and this time it seemed to be in acceptance. “Sorry to see you go, I am, Obi-Wan. Keep hold your relationship with the Force, and pass your wisdom onto Skywalker’s children when the time comes.”

“And to him,” Windu added. He stood up, and Obi-Wan with him. They shook hands. “May the Force be with you Obi-Wan. It was an honor serving with you.”

“May the Force be with you, Masters,” Obi-Wan said, looking between them. “And thank you.”

“Let us know if you need any more assistance,” Windu said, looking at Bail now. “We appreciate your efforts, Senator.”

“Thank you, Master Jedi.” As soon as Yoda and Windu left, Bail looked back at Obi-Wan. “Well, my friend. I guess that is that.”

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “You still get the pleasure of informing Tarkin.”

“Yes,” Bail said, a hint of scorn in his voice, though Obi-Wan knew it was not directed toward him. “I will respect your choice as well, though I hate to give Tarkin the victory.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Obi-Wan said humorously. “Tarkin’s career was dependent on Palpatine. Let him have this one hurrah. It may very well be his last.”

“You’re so generous.”

“Good luck telling him,” Obi-Wan said with a grin. Then he grimaced and brought a hand to his eyes as if in pain. “Oh, goodness. I really am turning into Anakin.”

Bail chuckled. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Well, if you don’t mind, I humbly request you tell Tarkin as soon as you can. My relationship with this cell is strained at the moment, and I’d very much like to see sunshine again before I turn completely pale.”

“As you wish,” Bail said with a dark smile. Before he left, though, he said, “Tell me, was this your plan all along? To go off and live with Padmé and her family?”

“It was,” Obi-Wan confessed. “So you needn’t be afraid of not seeing me around. I’m sure we’ll be making the odd trip to Alderaan now and then.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Bail said, pointing a finger at him in jest. “Disgraced Jedi or no, you will always be welcome in our halls.”

“ _Two_ disgraced Jedi,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “Disgraced poster boys for the Republic at that, and a senator who broke social mores by romancing a Jedi Knight. We’re all quite the trio.”

“A smear campaign against yourself,” his friend said, laughing now. “I think Tarkin will be especially eager to accept your decision.”

“He and I have never gotten along particularly well,” Obi-Wan recalled. “Even after Anakin and I saved his life on Lola Sayu. Funny how that works.”

“Funny,” Bail said. “Well, I’d best be off to disgrace your name. Take care in here.”

“I’ll try,” Obi-Wan said, before the cell door closed and left him alone again with naught but his anticipation and the Force.

* * *

Three weeks after she had left the Order, Ahsoka swung by Padmé’s apartment as she had been doing many times. Just like when she had first returned to Coruscant after Mandalore, she was moving around a lot, drifting from place to place as she tried once again to figure out her spot in the universe. This time around, however, she was at least slightly more sure of her decision to leave the Order, and at the _very_ least she had a group of people she could stay with if she ever completely lost her way.

So yes, she’d been spending a lot of time at Padmé’s recently, hanging out with her, with Anakin, and the babies. Ahsoka had never really thought human babies were particularly interesting to look at, but these two were downright adorable. They didn’t exactly do much, but the crèches of the Jedi Temple didn’t typically house children under the age of three, species depending, so this was her first serious exposure to kids this age and…yeah. They were just really, really cute.

Ahsoka also been hanging out with Rex a lot. With the war finally over (the Jedi Council had declared it official a couple weeks after Palpatine had died) the future of the army and the clones was uncertain, but Rex’s relatively long tenure and high rank gave him higher priority to end his service early. It was looking, they said on the holonet (she didn’t exactly have Jedi to keep her up to speed, anymore), that army reserves would be maintained to deal with the remaining Separatist holdouts, and the territories that refused to concede. Predictions were that military command would be given back to the Jedi until the final remnants of the Confederacy could be done away with for good. Which was great and all, but it also kind of didn’t concern her anymore, beyond the idea that some of her clone friends were still serving, and, well. Whatever. It was over for her, and over for Rex. She would cling to that idea for now.

One afternoon, she brought him ‘round to Padmé’s apartment with her, for he hadn’t actually seen Anakin in person since the 501st had been split in two, and because—

“Just wanted to see the tykes,” Rex said when they got there, almost bashful, looking out of place in Padmé’s cushy living area while he was still wearing most of his armor. After a moment, though, he shrugged it off and added, “Ah, who am I kidding. Miss ya, General.”

“I miss you too, Rex,” Anakin said, grinning with excitement at seeing his old friend. “But I’m not your general anymore, you know.”

“Right,” Rex said, drawing out the word, bouncing a little on his heels. “Good. ‘Cause then I can officially say — don’t care. Still calling you General, General.”

Anakin shook his head affectionately. “Call me whatever you want, I’m just glad to see you. Sorry I haven’t been keeping in touch.”

“Nah, the _little_ general’s filled me in,” Rex said with a quirk of his head toward Ahsoka, who rolled her eyes. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate, sir.”

Ahsoka elbowed him in a gap in his armor. “You’re not calling _me_ General, either. That lasted a month and I hated it.”

Rex chuckled, and ignored her. “Nice to see you as well, Senator.”

“Sorry, you’re zero for three,” Padmé said, her eyes bright. “I just retired from the Senate. You’ll have to call me Padmé now.”

Anakin looked at Padmé. “I ever tell you Rex kept our secret for a while?”

“You mentioned it,” she said fondly, and looked over at Rex. “And thank you for that. I’m happy to tell you it’s no longer necessary.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rex said, sounding relieved.

“Well, come on, _Commander,_ ” Anakin said, beckoning Rex as he moved over to the other room. “Let me show you my newest creations.”

Rex shook his head at his promoted rank and followed Anakin to go see the twins. Padmé turned to Ahsoka with a bright smile.

“So what’s your plan now, you think?”

Ahsoka shrugged. “You know, the more people ask me that, the less I feel like I have an answer. Honestly I have _no_ idea.”

“I can ask around on Naboo if you want something to do,” Padmé offered, but Ahsoka shook her head. 

“I appreciate it, but I think I need to figure this out on my own.” She frowned. “That’s what I said when I left the first time, too, and now I’m pretty much in the same spot. How did _you_ decide out what you wanted to do?”

Padmé looked thoughtful. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, actually, and truth is I’m not really sure I ever _did_ decide. I’ve been doing public service work for as long as I can remember back…my father was taking me on relief missions as early as five. Then I was identified for a potential political career shortly after, and…after a point it just felt like there was no turning back.” She trailed off for a minute, staring out the window. “And all of that _was_ my choice. My parents didn’t push me into politics. They supported me, but I don’t think they ever really _wanted_ it for me. And now that I’m a mom, for some reason all I can think is that I was far too young to make those kinds of decisions, even though Naboo’s whole political philosophy is founded upon the innocent wisdom of adolescents.”

“I’ve read about your early career,” Ahsoka said. “You did amazing things.”

“Thank you,” Padmé said kindly. “It’s not that I regret my work. It was fulfilling, and I know I did a lot of good. Bringing the Gunguns and Naboo together has brought great growth to my people. I guess my point is…no matter how much good I may have brought, I still don’t think I want the same life for Luke and Leia that I had, you know?”

“That’s what Anakin said, too,” Ahsoka pointed out. “I guess you’ll have to find a happy medium.”

Padmé laughed. “I don’t know what the medium is between our two lives, but I _will_ teach them to be good people, and to help others at every opportunity. I just don’t want their service to define them as it did me and Ani. I want them to have the childhood neither of us had a chance at.”

“Ever since I left the Order the first time,” Ahsoka said, nodding, “I’ve been wondering what it might be like to grow up normal. Whatever normal is. I don’t know even how my childhood compares to other kids…I mean, I was happy, you know, we got to play, and learn, and be safe. But then it was just _over_. And I had wanted to grow up so badly, but looking back, I don’t think I was ready at all.”

“You and I were both fourteen when we first saw war,” Padmé said. “No child that young should have to fight just because there are no adults to do so, or because the other adults refuse to.”

“And yet I still miss it, somehow,” Ahsoka said wistfully. “I miss feeling like I had a purpose. Now I just feel lost.”

“A new purpose might come along,” Padmé said. “It did for me. And even if it doesn’t, there’s nothing wrong with just…living. Enjoying life for what it is. Spending time with friends and family.”

“I just walked away from my family.”

“Family doesn’t have to be the ones that raised you,” Padmé said, smiling. “Family can be something you find for yourself. Could be, say…a couple, their newborns, the sarcastic uncle and the fun Togruta aunt.”

Ahsoka laughed. “Do I have to start changing diapers?”

“No, but you’re welcome to whenever you want.”

A different kind of family, huh? One that they had built for themselves, dating all the way back to....

“Do you remember when we met?”

“I do,” Padmé said, beaming. “Anakin and Obi-Wan had just saved me from the — what was it?”

“ _Malevolence_.”

“Right. I couldn’t believe he’d been given a Padawan when I found out. He couldn’t believe it, either.”

“I remember thinking he was acting kind of weird around you,” Ahsoka said, grinning. “And Obi-Wan was rolling his eyes a lot. I figured it out eventually, to an extent, but honestly _I_ still can’t believe you two have children.”

“Neither can I sometimes. And _I_ pushed them out of me.”

They chatted for a while longer until Anakin came back with Rex in tow. Anakin clapped his hands together once and said, “All right, it’s official. Luke and Leia have another uncle.”

“As long as I don’t have to change diapers,” said Rex, grimacing.

Ahsoka snickered. “That’s what I just said.”

“ _And_ I told Rex everything,” Anakin said. He glanced sideways. “Well, an abridged version. It’s still a little traumatic otherwise.”

“I never did like the Chancellor,” Rex said. “Always thought your friendship was kinda weird, but I couldn’t say anything. Then all the stuff with Fives happened and…well.”

“I know,” Anakin said sadly. “Did you two ever make headway with that conspiracy thing?”

“Shaak Ti said she was going to look into it,” Ahsoka said. “She said she’s going to Kamino to try to get more information.”

“At least I got my chip out, though,” Rex said. “It should help them to know I’m not dead or crazy. Honestly, I feel better than I have in years. No more nightmares.”

Anakin frowned at him. “Didn’t Fives mention nightmares too?”

Rex nodded curtly. “Him saying that sort of triggered something. It was like I’d been in denial about them before. Too afraid to acknowledge them. Nightmares about killing Jedi, the way Tup did. The great, final mission. It was like I’d forgotten about them until recently. Now I’m even more convinced there was a conspiracy than ever before. But with both of you leaving the Jedi….” He shrugged. “Dunno. I’m hoping that with the Chancellor gone, it won’t be an issue anymore.”

There was a pronounced silence among the four of them. Then Anakin rolled his shoulders back and sighed. “Pretty sure you’re right.”

“About the conspiracy?” Padmé asked.

He nodded. “I mean, he never explicitly told me anything beyond the Jedi being traitors but it was…pretty heavily implied that he wanted to do away with them for good. Clone chip conspiracy to kill Jedi, plus the emergency powers putting him at the head of the military....” He sighed. “Yeah. Pretty sure that would have happened.”

Padmé shuddered. “Monster.”

“You know, that’s the scary thing,” Anakin said distantly. “He _wasn’t_ a monster, though. Monster would imply he’s…supernatural. No, he was just a human man with no empathy at all, and I think that’s worse. And I hate him, and I’m glad he’s dead, but…honestly I almost feel bad for him. _Almost_.”

“You shouldn’t,” Ahsoka said. “He didn’t feel bad about what he did to you.”

“I know,” Anakin said. “But I don’t mean it like I did before. Well, I don’t know, maybe that’s part of it. And I’ll never forgive him. But really he was just a terrible old man with no capacity for love or compassion.” He shrugged again. “That’s no way to live.”

Padmé closed the distance between her and Anakin and put her arms around his shoulders. “Now that’s the Ani that I remember from Tatooine.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “My mom used to say stuff like that about the Hutts. That they were terrible people who did terrible things, but we should pity them because by amassing all that power they have to give up certain things like love and compassion, and in doing so they lost touch with what’s really important. I always thought she was crazy, but now I’m starting to get what she meant.”

“I’m proud of you,” Padmé said to him, and when she leaned up to kiss him Ahsoka had to look at Rex and groan.

“Get a room,” she said, not looking at them.

“Hey,” Anakin said, turning his head toward her while Padmé giggled and made a big show of kissing his cheek. “We missed out on three years of public displays of affection. Cut me some slack.”

“We’re not in public,” Padmé said, and Ahsoka did _not_ need to hear how suggestive her voice sounded. Just…gross. “We’re in my apartment. We can do whatever we want.”

“Come on,” Ahsoka said to Rex, who looked slightly uncomfortable and equally amused. “Let’s leave the lovebirds to it.”

On their way out, Ahsoka heard Anakin call:

“Ahsoka, did I forget to tell you where babies come from?”

She heard a smack as Padmé swatted him, cackling. “Let your Padawan be.”

“What? We have two, they had to come from somewhere.”

Ahsoka looked at Rex and rolled her eyes. “And I thought him and Obi-Wan were annoying.”

* * *

The following is a statement by High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi, read by Master Kenobi and broadcast on HoloNet One at twelve hundred hours, Galactic Standard Time:

“Today I, Obi-Wan Kenobi, announce my official resignation from the Jedi Order, the Jedi Council, and service in the Grand Army of the Republic, effective immediately. I hereby renounce my titles, my lightsaber, my Jedi privileges, and I give my sincerest apologies to the Republic that I have tried to serve for my entire life.

“Approximately one Standard month ago, I was entrusted with monitoring the secure cell inside the Jedi Temple housing Supreme Chancellor Palpatine during his trial. During my surveillance shift, the late Chancellor died by way of choking on his dinner. Due to a technical malfunction of the security droid and my own lack of awareness, I failed to notice that Chancellor Palpatine was having a medical emergency, and he paid for my negligence with his own life.

“In my time as a Jedi, I was taught to be ever-vigilant of my surroundings. I was taught to defend life at the cost of my own, whenever necessary. After many years of service, one month ago I lapsed on my responsibility to be vigilant, and as such a life was lost before its time. The Jedi believe, as I do, that life is sacred. They believe every life, even those with which we may be at odds, is worth protecting. As such, I take on full responsibility of my own failures, and hope that the people of the Republic will continue to trust and have faith in the Jedi Order. I do not wish for my actions to reflect poorly upon the care and diligence that my fellow Jedi exhibit on a daily basis.

“Therefore, I apologize to you, the people of the Republic. I apologize to the Jedi Order, and the vows that I broke through my failure to save a life. I am sorry to anyone that I may have hurt through my failure to act. I apologize to the Senate, who was working so diligently to uncover the truth. And mostly, I apologize to the Chancellor himself. I am so, very, _deeply_ sorry. And I vow that never again will I allow a life to be lost if I can help it. It is the very least I can do to make up for my negligence.

“I now take my leave of the Jedi Order, and from Coruscant, and I wish for everyone the best during this tumultuous time in Republic history. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note- I elected not to go into detail on the whole clone chip Kamino investigation thing because I already did all that in Asylum and it’s not fun to write the same thing twice lol. But basically, I don't THINK anyone remaining knows about Protocol 66 except the Kaminoans, who would have neither power nor reason to enact it. Per Wookieepedia, Palpatine was only *legally* able to enact it after his final series of emergency powers put him in charge of the military and no one has those powers anymore, and even if they did they wouldn't know about Order 66. But this is hard to explain within the limited knowledge of the POV characters, so basically...they're safe lol
> 
> conclusion next week...bring your toothbrushes, because you're gonna need it after all the sweet, sweet fluff I sling your way


	19. enjoy your life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be dramatic but it feels like my youngest child is all grown up and leaving home for the first time

“That’s almost all of it,” Padmé was saying, closing the latch on a large portable chest. “That’s all my favorites — the rest I think I’ll donate.”

“Oh, but what about this one?” Anakin heard Dormé say, and he’d heard that question so many times today he didn’t even bother to look up at which of Padmé’s hundreds of outfits the handmaiden was holding up now for inspection.

Padmé laughed, music to his ears. “You can keep that one if you want. And any others.”

“Milady, I couldn’t—”

“I don’t need all these, Dormé. I’ll be spending the next couple years in lounge clothes covered in baby drool. Take them! Ellé, Moteé, take whatever you want. Something to remember me by.”

“I’ve seen your lounge clothes,” Ellé said, “And they’re still three times as glam as anything I own.”

“Well, of course,” Padmé said like it was obvious. “I may have quit politics for now but I will never take a vacation from fashion. Moteé? Anything else you want?”

“I’d just about die for your onyx circlet,” the girl confessed.

Padmé responded by fishing it out of a drawer, and the next thing Anakin heard was a squeal.

They were just about done cleaning out Padmé’s apartment, which to Anakin was already pretty minimalistic to begin with. That said, there were about six of these large chests that she had already filled with clothes and accessories other assorted items, not to mention the full starship of baby equipment they’d already sent to her landing platform. Anakin had pretty much just been hanging around — he didn’t have much of his own, just a few things he’d taken with him from the temple when he’d left, and he’d never put out so much as his model starfighter so…this was all her. _All_ her. A lot of _her_.

And he loved her for it. And he loved her.

And at least he had the Force to help him unload it all once they got to Naboo.

They weren’t leaving yet, didn’t have a scheduled time or day, because they were still waiting here in this awful limbo space as Obi-Wan’s fate continued to hang in uncertainty. Nearly a month had passed since Anakin had seen the man, which was the longest they’d been apart for almost a year. And he was still so upset and angry about that fact that he was practically climbing the walls. 

Obi-Wan was his best friend. His father. His brother. Anakin had thought a lot about what Obi-Wan had said, just a few hours before he’d been swept away to a detention facility, about how he’d thought of himself as less of a father and more of a brother. To Anakin he was some weird mix of both those things, because he still had no clear frame of reference as to what it felt like to have either one. But now, after this agonizing month apart, Anakin realized Obi-Wan wasn’t _just_ his brother, his father. Obi-Wan was…he was everything. He was as much everything as were Padmé, Luke, and Leia. He was a part of this family whether he liked it or not. And Anakin wanted him back.

Obi-Wan was his master, too, even now. Anakin was his Padawan. How many times had Obi-Wan teasingly reminded him in the last three years, _You don’t need to call me ‘Master’_ _anymore, Anakin_. For a long time Anakin had hated the word…‘Master’. _Lorda_ , in Huttese, though they’d used both on Tatooine. For a long time that word had been full of dark connotations that he hated. Anakin still hated it in many contexts. But over time, when it came to the Jedi, he had started to understand that while it may have been the same word at face value but it didn’t have the same meaning at all. It was a sign of respect. Of admiration. A sign that Obi-Wan had earned long ago.

Anakin would have been forced to call Palpatine that, too, if things had gone another way. If he had done things differently. And that thought _did_ still fill him with misery and self-disgust, but…it wasn’t quite as overwhelming anymore. Dr. Druyan was right; Anakin knew he had a long way to go. He comprehended that certain things had been out of his control. He _did_ still wish that he had killed Palpatine that night, that he might have been able to prevent all this, but he understood now why he had not been able to. And he still didn’t particularly like himself, but at least he was finally starting to believe that others did.

Dr. Druyan had said that one day, Anakin might see in himself what Padmé, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka saw in him. He really hoped that was true, but he wouldn’t hold his breath.

“Artoo!” he heard, drawing him out of his thoughts and he looked fondly over at C-3PO whacking R2-D2 on the latter’s dome. “Be careful! That case contains Mistress Padmé’s finest jewelry, not that I would expect a rotund rust-bucket like you to understand the significance of _that_.”

R2 responded with a series of beeps that Anakin understood as _If you packed it securely enough you should not have anything to worry about you gold-plated son of a—_

“Threepio,” Anakin said, laughing, “If Artoo can handle all the things he’s done with me in the war, I think he can move one case of luggage just fine. And Artoo,” he added, getting up and patting R2 on the dome where 3PO had hit him. “You know you can’t talk like that once I teach the kids binary, right?”

R2’s processor light turned yellow and he sounded, _How many standard planetary revolutions until that occurs so that I may adjust my programming accordingly?_

“Uh,” Anakin said. “Three or four?”

_Affirmative_ , the astromech whistled. _Protocol set to activate in thirty standard months. Please update my system with child-friendly language before that time._

Anakin nodded, trying to suppress a smile. “Will do.”

The protocol droid kicked R2’s canister body. “Why don’t you just shut down right now and save us all the headache.”

R2 retorted, _When did Master Anakin program you to feel pain? Or are you just being dramatic again?_

“What are you all talking about over there?” Padmé said, moving over to them with a big grin.

3PO turned toward her. “I am simply trying to impress upon this bucket of bolts that he needs to be more careful with other people’s belongings lest they degrade to the sorry state in which he finds himself.”

Padmé looked at Anakin. “Why did you program him to be such a worrywart?”

Anakin shrugged, and rested a hand comfortingly on 3PO’s indignant shoulder. “There were a few personalities in his databanks, but I liked this one the best. He’s got character. Plus, he’s one of a kind.”

“That he is,” she said, grinning at the droid, who was looking in between the two humans, his expressionless face somehow seeming confused.

“If I’d had time on Tatooine I would have built another—”

His words trailed of suddenly. Anakin felt it before he heard or saw it — a familiar presence, the _most_ familiar presence, the one that had been in the back of his mind in that awful limbo space for weeks now as Anakin sat helplessly in this apartment, trying so hard to be patient and failing miserably—

He was moving before becoming aware that he’d done so, and started heading out of Padmé’s bedroom, faintly aware of her confusion as she followed him asking what was wrong, but nothing was wrong, suddenly everything was going to be right—

They entered Padmé’s living area with the sunroof and yellow couches the very moment the turbolift door slid shut behind Obi-Wan, who walked in with a bag slung over his shoulder. For a short moment they all stared at each other, and then Obi-Wan said, “Ah. The Force always ruins my surprises. I was hoping to appear out of nowhere and say, room for one more?”

“Say anything you want,” Anakin breathed, crossing the room in a few paces and throwing his arms around Obi-Wan, who dropped his bag gently on the floor and returned the embrace. Anakin felt Padmé come up beside them. “You’re home.”

“I’m home,” Obi-Wan confirmed softly. “If your offer is still on the table.”

“Always,” Anakin said, releasing him and looking at him in wonder. “When did they let you go?”

“Earlier today,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s on the holonet already. Not that you’re one to pay attention to current events.”

“That’s not true,” Anakin said, too overjoyed to engage in their usual pointless banter. “I used to watch the news in space all the time.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied with a teasing smile, “Whenever Padmé was being featured, I recall.”

She laughed, and came up to hug Obi-Wan as well. “What happened?”

“They didn’t have enough evidence to convict me outright,” he said. “So I tried to spare them the debate and agreed to leave the Jedi if it meant ending things sooner.”

“I’m surprised Tarkin accepted that.”

“Bail thinks we would have won our case,” Obi-Wan said. “But I was planning on going with you anyway, so I figured I might as well move things along and resign.”

Then Anakin noticed an empty spot on Obi-Wan’s belt. “They took your lightsaber.”

“Yes, and feel free to poke fun all you want,” Obi-Wan said, grinning. “Did I ever tell you how I killed Grievous with a blaster? Maybe it will be my new weapon of choice. It does seem to be how uncivilized I’ve become.”

“Does that mean—”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Obi-Wan said lightly, his eyes twinkling but betraying no hidden truths. “For now if you don’t mind, I’d very much like to see my niece and nephew, as it were.”

Excitement burst in the Force, and both Padmé and Anakin spoke at the same time—

“They can lift their heads up now!”

“They’re sleeping for five hours straight!”

Padmé threw her head back in a laugh and took Obi-Wan by the arm. “Come on, Uncle Obi-Wan.”

…Well then, Anakin supposed, beaming. 

Must be time to go to Naboo after all.

* * *

The day they were to leave, the three of them met with Ahsoka on Padmé’s hovering landing platform, kilometers of city and empty sky between them and the planet’s surface. Anakin _would_ miss Coruscant, he thought, but truth was that this planet had never been his home. Home was always people — Mom, at first, and then Obi-Wan, and then Obi-Wan and Padmé, and then Obi-Wan and Padmé and _Ahsoka_ — 

Which meant, funnily enough, that this might be the most at home Anakin had ever felt on this planet. The four of them, he realized, had never actually spent that much time together as a group. There were some dinners after the twins had been born, and that one time after the _Malevolence_ , and fleeting moments over the years, but the longest time they’d ever really spent together was the night where they had all intervened and saved him from Palpatine.

So…this was a big improvement from _that_.

“I have a surprise,” Ahsoka said, and she reached her hand into a bag that she had brought with her, fishing out something long and cylindrical and wrapped in cloth. She handed it to Obi-Wan. “For the newly free one among us.” 

Obi-Wan peeked under the wrapping and looked at her with a wry smile and a quirk of the eyebrow. “You stole a training saber from the Jedi Temple?”

“I know, I know,” she said, waving him off. “I went to talk to Master Ti about the Fives conspiracy and I nabbed it on my way out. Wish I could’ve gotten yours back somehow. I even asked Master Plo, but he said it’s been locked up per Tarkin’s demand. But I’m sure there’s a way to fiddle with this one to make it act like a regular saber. I figured the Jedi wouldn’t appreciate you stealing a crystal from Ilum, but hey. It’s yours now. Do what you want.” She looked at Anakin, patting the hilt of her shoto. “It’s got a green blade, which I’m sure you’ll end up turning blue. Seems to be something you enjoy doing.”

Anakin laughed. “I know, I get it. Just another thing I did to make things about me. Sorry. But at least you’ll remember me when you turn yours on.”

“As if anyone could forget you, Skyguy,” she teased, and then looked at Padmé and Obi-Wan. “Mind if I have him for a sec?”

“All yours,” Padmé said with a wink, drawing Obi-Wan back over to the ship, where Anakin could see them snickering between themselves. He turned to Ahsoka.

“Obi-Wan’s coming with us to Naboo, you know,” he said. “You can come too, if you want. It’s not too late.”

Ahsoka’s brow raised in playful skepticism. “You really want me as a babysitter that badly?”

“C’mon, you like kids,” he said. “Remember Stinky?”

“Sometimes I can still smell him.”

He grinned. “If you really do want to end slavery we’ll probably seem him again.”

“That’s dark,” she said with a huff of laughter. “Thanks, but I don’t think I’m ready to settle down just yet. Me and Rex were talking about traveling around a bit, seeing the galaxy as tourists instead of military. He wants to go to Saleucami.”

“You’re gonna need a ship,” Anakin said. “If you come to Naboo we can build one!”

“Anakin…you’re doing that thing again.”

Ah. Yeah. He made a conceding gesture with his hands. “You’re right. Just being overprotective again, I guess.”

“I’ll stay in touch,” she said. “We’ll stop by whenever we’re in the quadrant.”

“I used to want to travel too,” he said wistfully, then his grin widened. “I guess I’ll be able to do it with my kids one day. Little Skywalker family adventure.”

“I thought you said they were Naberries?”

“ _Skywalker_ Naberries.”

“Right, right,” she said, shaking her head. “Well…good luck. Dad.”

“You too, Auntie Snips,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you…Dad.”

“It’s not funny if you tell the same joke twice.”

“You wouldn’t know what was funny if it hit you on the back of the head.”

“You’re right,” Anakin quipped. “My instincts are far too good. I would catch it first.”

“You continue to be impossible,” Ahsoka said, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his torso.

Anakin returned the hug and said, “I’m proud of you, Ahsoka.”

“For what?”

“I just am.”

She stepped back, smiling at him. “I’m proud of you, too. And of all the Jedi…I’m glad they assigned me to you.”

Contented calm swirled between them in the Force. Another hug was pretty much mandatory after that remark.

After, they walked back over to Obi-Wan and Padmé, the latter of whom turned to Ahsoka and said, “I’m sure he tried to get you to come with us to Naboo?”

“Of course,” Ahsoka said. “And maybe one day I’ll follow. I’ll at least swing by to teach the kids the reverse lightsaber grip. It’ll drive Dad crazy.”

Anakin swatted her on the arm. “Ahsoka!”

She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “Would you prefer your other nicknames? You want me to tell your kids about the legendary Hero With No Fear?”

Obi-Wan started laughing from deep in the gut. “Yes, please do.”

Anakin poked a finger into his mentor’s chest. “If you keep laughing I’ll make sure they call you Uncle Negotiator.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said humorously, “And I’m sure you’ll be teaching them binary as a first language? They’ll be calling me ‘Beep Beep’ by the age of two, I assume?”

“Try not to talk so much, Master, I don’t want them to end up with your accent.”

“On that note, don’t you think Naboo is a little too civilized for your tastes?”

“We can go to Tatooine instead, if you want. I hear Jabba’s Sarlacc is looking to sell its sinkhole, I’m sure you’d love it. Very earthy.”

Padmé interrupted them, looking at Ahsoka. “Is the rest of my life going to be like this?”

“Constantly,” Ahsoka grinned. “Good luck, they’re your problem now.”

Padme hugged her. “Make sure to stay in touch.”

“I will, Mom,” Ahsoka said, then looked at Anakin and Obi-Wan. “Dad. Dad.”

“Shut up, Snips,” Anakin said, giving her another embrace. She shared one with Obi-Wan, too, and then with a few parting goodbyes she went back over to her speeder. They watched her go, then headed up the ramp into the ship in the best of spirits, finally ready to go.

After a quick check up on the twins, the three of them gathered in the cockpit, sharing one last look at the permacrete and chrome skyline of the city-planet before setting off, out of the atmosphere and into hyperspace and—

“Off we are to domesticity,” Obi-Wan said, as if finishing Anakin’s thought for him. 

In the copilot’s seat Padmé turned around to face Obi-Wan, crossing one leg over the other as she looked him over. “So, now that we’re definitely free from spying eyes and ears… _did_ you actually do it?”

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan said, a coy smile on his face, leaning casually back in his seat. “Do I _look_ like a man that would use the Force to shove a piece of steak down the Chancellor’s throat thereby assassinating him and making it look like an accident? Does that really sound like me?”

Her smile was toothy and brilliant. “Forgive me, Obi-Wan,” she said, pretending to raise an invisible skirt in a curtsey. “Though I would like to formally thank that piece of steak for its service.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Anakin said, “When _you_ were the impulsive one, Master.”

“Quite the contrary, actually,” Obi-Wan said. “A good deal of planning went into this.”

“I did say you were acting weird, didn’t I?”

“You did. And I hope you can understand why I didn’t want you to be involved. This was simply something that I had to do.”

“Well,” Padmé said, getting up and coming over to put a hand on his shoulder before moving to leave the cockpit, “I always pictured that if we _did_ get a happily ever after, you’d factor into it somehow. Obi-Wan…I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thank you,” he said honestly. “So am I.”

He got up and sat in Padmé’s vacant seat next to Anakin, who swiveled around to him and said, “Me too.”

“We’re the team, right?” Obi-Wan said, smiling. “We stay together.”

“And bad things happen if we don’t.”

“Sometimes good things happen, too.”

“I can’t believe Obi-Wan Kenobi is calling assassination a good thing.”

“Someone had to do it,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I told you I would take on your burdens if I could. Turns out, I could.”

“And you’re not worried?” Anakin said, feeling a little worried himself. “About....”

“About falling?” Anakin nodded, but Obi-Wan just shook his own head. “I know what I did. I know the potential consequences. I realize I did it out of revenge, to an extent. And I realize that the fact that I don’t regret it is itself a red flag. But I think the fact that I’m self-aware enough to realize all of this will help me if temptation every does come my way.”

Obi-Wan made a little shrugging motion with his hands. “Maybe my peers don’t agree. In fact, I’m sure they wouldn’t, which is why I didn’t tell any of them. But I _do_ think this was the right thing to do. For you, for the Republic, for the Jedi. I’m happy to take one for the team.”

“Well,” Anakin said. “If you ever have any more dark, murderous impulses, let me know. I’m pretty familiar with them myself.”

“Only if you do the same with me.”

“Agreed,” Anakin said, knowing he could never put into words exactly how he felt. “I just…thank you, Obi-Wan.”

His friend smiled, that old smile Anakin was so familiar with, and missed so much. “Have you been better now that he’s gone? Have you been sleeping?”

“Yes and yes,” Anakin said. “The nightmares went away immediately. Jobal went home but Padmé stopped working shortly after, so taking care of the twins was easier. And I’ve been seeing Ahsoka more, so that’s good.” He frowned. “I’m gonna miss her.”

“This time it’s us leaving her, I suppose.”

“To the same place we came together, funnily enough. Everything always seems to come back to Naboo. Maybe this was meant to be.”

“You suddenly believe in destiny?”

“Actually,” Anakin said, looking out at hyperspace. “After two sets of visions that were both a lie, and a prophecy that turned out not to come true....”

“One could argue that it did,” Obi-Wan said. “We each killed one of the last two Sith Lords. Depends on your point of view, I suppose.”

“Did you _want_ it to be true?”

“I _wanted_ you not to have to worry about it. And now, you don’t. Mission accomplished.”

“Many missions,” Anakin said, leaning back with a grin. “We may yet have a few more.”

“Trouble _does_ seem to find us, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan lamented comically. “I’m certain your offspring will be no different.”

“I learned everything from you, Master.”

“You didn’t learn your impulsiveness from me,” Obi-Wan chided. “Though, I may have learned it from you, as it turns out.” Then he made a painful face. “You know what I said to Bail the other day? I said ‘ _good luck_.’ Can you believe I did that?”

“You did not!”

“I did, unfortunately.”

“Shot Grievous with a blaster, revenge-killed the Chancellor, and said good luck to Bail Organa,” Anakin said, grinning from ear to ear. “Master, I think you’re training is finally complete.”

Obi-Wan just shook his head in dismay, smiling despite himself.

And with that — uproarious laughter and a story that Ahsoka was going to _love_ — as Obi-Wan said, they were off.

To domesticity. To a good, long life on their own terms, of their own making.

That was all Anakin had ever really wanted, he supposed. Freedom, and family. Sometimes dreams really do come true…

…Ack. So cheesy. Fatherhood was making him soft.

He smiled to himself. If being soft was the most of his worries…maybe, Anakin supposed, it really would be okay after all.

It at least felt like it would be, for once. And maybe that most elusive of feelings really was worth it all, in the end.

* * *

_sit back and enjoy your problems_

_you don’t always have to solve ‘em_

_‘cause your worst days, they are over_

❤️ _so enjoy your life_ ❤️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> closes bejeweled story book à la Sleeping Beauty
> 
> (IMPORTANT: check out the top comment of this chapter for some post-fic domestic headcanons. It felt like a crime to keep it to myself)
> 
> well...all good things must come to an end...thank you SO so so much everyone, whether you commented or kudos'd or lurked in the shadows...it's been a wild ride and an absolute pleasure to have you all along with me. I wave my magic fairy godmother dust upon thee and wish you good mental health for all days to come  
> <3💙🧚♀️✨ may the force be with you and thank you ever so ✨🧚♀️💙<3


End file.
